Hail and Farewell (The Lakeland Murders)

by J. J. Salkeld

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘What would you say if I told you that a Scottish drugs operation has been looking to move in to this area, and has been selling gear at school gates, to kids as young as ten?’

  Hall looked at Smith, who shrugged.

  ‘Tell me more’ said Hall. ‘We’d be grateful for any help that you could give us.’

  ‘I’m sure you would. Aye, because you don’t have a bloody clue, do you? Well I don’t need to give you any information, and you want to know why?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Because the problem has been sorted, before your lot even bloody knew it existed.’

  ‘And we’ve got you to thank for that, have we, Mr. Hayton?’

  ‘We really should be going’ said Bell, taking Hayton’s arm. But he shook it off and moved closer to Hall.

  ‘How many coppers are on duty right now, between St Bees and Silloth, say? Come on, you’re the bloody big cheese, you must know.’

  ‘I don’t, it’s not my division. But I could take an educated guess. Maybe twenty or so, something like that.’

  ‘Oh, aye? And that includes the four of you here now does it?’

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  ‘Well I bet that if you take off the ones who are off sick, on courses, in meetings and doing paperwork there’s only a handful of bobbies available to cover that whole area. Do you think I’m a mile out?’

  ‘I take your point’ said Hall, ‘and please feel free to pass on your views to the elected Police Commissioner. I’m sure that he welcomes the public’s views.’

  ‘It wouldn’t matter, would it? You lot are bloody invisible these days, round here anyway. That’s why the town needs me.’

  ‘So what are you saying? That we’re not able to investigate and prosecute crime properly? Because if you are then you may be in for a shock, Mr. Hayton.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see, won’t we? But you lot don’t half waste a shed load of time, I’ll say that. You’re all here now, even though everyone knows that this was an accident, and that’s an end of it. Meanwhile a load of Scottish scumbags are pushing hard drugs to our primary school kids.’

  ‘I thought you said that problem had been taken care of?’

  ‘Now you listen to me. This is my town, and my people, and I do take care of them. You hear me? The funeral today: I paid for that. The sandwich you’re eating, that came from my catering business. The taxis that have been ferrying folk about, they’re mine too. And we don’t take kindly to offcomers poking about in our business. You hear me?’

  ‘I certainly do, Mr. Hayton. I’ve found our conversation most interesting. Goodbye for now, but I’m sure we’ll meet again.’

  ‘So you’re making a run for it, are you?’

  ‘Oh, we’re not leaving, Mr. Hayton. But you are. A philanthropist such as yourself, you must be in great demand all over the place. Isn’t that right, Mr. Bell?’

  ‘Come on, George. We’re late already.’

  Five minutes later Hall found Mrs. Brown, promised to keep her updated on progress, and commiserated once again. Smith drove in silence most of the way back to the station.

  ‘Did anything catch your eye, Jimmy?’ asked Hall.

  ‘Not really, no. Why, did either of you notice anything?

  ‘Not me’ said Jane. ‘But what was Hayton on about, Jimmy? All that stuff about peddling gear at the school gates.’

  ‘No idea. Maybe finally getting the better of Jack Moffett is giving him some kind of Napoleon complex. But I’d watch him, Andy. He’s a right nasty piece of work, is George Hayton.’

  ‘I’m sure he is. But the day that any of us is intimidated, or influenced, by the likes of him is the day that we should pack it all in. But, just out of interest, was what he was saying about those pushers true?’

  ‘Possible. Aye, it probably was. My contact in the drug squad mentioned something about it a week or two back. Just rumours, like, but the word was that Jack Moffett was looking for a bit of an alliance with some boys from Glasgow. So maybe it happened, I don’t know. Sometimes I think our drugs lads are smoking a bit too much of what they’re supposed to be finding, but they are right occasionally.’

  Hall smiled. ‘OK, thanks, Jimmy. And for what it’s worth I’d say we’ve got Hayton rattled, and I’d love to know why that is. We haven’t so much as laid a glove on him so far. So I’ll be very interested to see how he reacts when we do.’

  Keith Iredale ate his sandwich and ordered a few new bits for his road bike online. He was riding in a sportive in a couple of weeks time, and with Wrynose on the route he knew he’d need all the help he could get, if he wanted a top ten finish. And Iredale really did want a top ten finish this time.

  He was just choosing some new bar tape when his personal mobile rang. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the number. He was tempted to send the call to voice mail, but he didn’t.

  ‘Dad’ he said, ‘what’s going on?’

  ‘Your fly-tippers, Keith.’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘I was talking to old Sam, when I popped up to Allonby earlier.’

  ‘You popped up to Allonby?’

  ‘Aye. Just for a stroll and a coffee. You know how much your mum loves Allonby.’

  ‘Was mum with you then?’ Keith was smiling, because he already knew the answer.

  ‘No, she’d gone through to Carlisle on the bus as it happens. Anyway, do you want to hear what I’ve got for you, or not?’

  ‘Aye, go on then. What did supergrass Sam have to say for himself?’

  ‘He said it’s not the first time it’s happened. He said the same thing happened last summer too, when you were away on that course in Preston.’

  ‘Oh, aye?’

  ‘Aye, and Sam said he saw a tipper lorry, all loaded up, when he was walking old Bess one night. And the next day there was a load of rubbish dumped, just where the new lot is now.’

  ‘He didn’t get a name for the firm, did he?’

  ‘Not at the time, no, or he’d have told me and I’d have told you, like. But he saw that same truck the other day, driving along the main road through the village, slowly, like it was looking for somewhere to tip. That’s what he reckons, anyway.’

  ‘And who did this truck belong to?’

  ‘They’re called Environmental Solutions of Cockermouth. Would you bloody believe it, son?’

  Keith Iredale laughed out loud, and a couple of people looked round. There hadn’t been much laughter in the office that morning.

  ‘The cheeky bastards. Thanks dad, I’ll check them out when I get a chance.’ Iredale paused, because something had occurred to him. ‘You’ve already had a look, haven’t you?’

  ‘Aye, I was going that way, like. It’s outside the town, and they’ve got pretty high fences. Dogs too, by the looks.’

  ‘All right, dad, you leave it alone now, you hear me? But thanks for letting me know. I’ll ask the beat bobby to drop in and see Sam and take a statement from him.’

  When Iredale was off the phone he ordered his bar tape and then logged back into the police system. He emailed the community copper for Allonby and asked her to drop in on old Sam, and then he sent an email to HQ, asking for a company records check on Environmental Solutions of Cockermouth. He knew that other people didn’t react to fly-tipping in the same way that he did, because it felt almost like a personal insult to him, but his actions had been proportionate, he was sure of it. Then he put his bait box into his back-pack and got back to work. Matt Hayton’s timeline for Good Friday was taking them nowhere, because he and Ian Mann had spent over a shift proving nothing more than that what Hayton had said in his statement was true. He’d spent the morning in bed, had been at the taxi office in the afternoon, and had been drinking before the game. Big bloody deal.

  By four o’clock Hall’s knee was starting to hurt, and by six the pain killers didn’t seem to be doing much at all. The chair in the office he’d borrowed was hurting his back too. He started to h
ope that Jane would pack it in for the night and take him back to the hotel, and maybe out for something to eat after. He was just thinking about emailing her, even though her office was just two doors down, when she knocked at the door. Mann was with her. Hall had been reviewing every document, every enquiry and every note as it had hit the system that day, so he knew that there’d been no meaningful progress since the morning. Over eighty man hours had been burned in that shift, for no useful outcome, and he knew that it was exactly the sort of thing that Val Gorham would notice. The woman was like a human adding machine. But he could handle the ACC, at least for now. But he was worried, and he could feel a slight knotting in his stomach. The investigation was just starting to feel becalmed, and in Hall’s experience that was never good.

  So Hall smiled as widely as he could, and beckoned Jane and Mann in.

  ‘Is that knee hurting?’ asked Jane, as she came in. ‘You’re looking very strange. I need to get you out of here.’

  ‘In a bit’ said Hall, mildly. ‘Let’s talk this through, just the three of us. We need to decide how to kick on with this in the morning. Because I can’t see anything on Matt Hayton that takes us an inch forwards, can you, Ian?’

  ‘No, I can’t, worse luck. His timeline for Friday isn’t helpful, because there are no holes, and no inconsistencies with his statement.’

  ‘His electronic records are clean too’ said Jane. ‘Of course he’s been using one or more burners to make his calls on, and even if we got a warrant we wouldn’t find any now. He’ll have disposed of whatever he was using last week long since, I’d bet my life on it. Like we were saying in the car, Andy, someone has got the likes of Matt pretty well educated. I’m not saying that we can’t find anything, but I am saying that we’d have to do a lot more digging.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Hall, ‘and that’s what they’re banking on. That’ll we just run out of resources. So I wanted to suggest a change of tack. It’s because of the way that George Hayton was when was we met. I’m convinced that he’s worried about something, because we all saw how aggressive he was. And we all know which side of the flight or fight instinct he’ll tend towards when he feels threatened.’

  ‘All right,’ said Mann, ‘I’d be up for a new tack. We’re losing momentum here, Andy, and the team is feeling it too.’

  ‘We’ve all worked together too long’ said Hall, ‘because I agree with that comment completely. So how about we concentrate everything on the burglary of Baker’s hotel room, and especially on trying to find out who was in that car on Tuesday night?’

  Jane nodded. ‘You’re thinking it was Matt Hayton?’

  ‘Why not? If his uncle trusts him enough to put the hurt on Tony Gambles, if that was what he was trying to do during the game, then maybe he also got him to take part in the burglary.’

  ‘OK, Andy’ said Jane, ‘but isn’t it just as likely that he mugged Alex Baker? That would feel like more his speed, looking at his record.’

  ‘I agree’ said Mann. ‘From memory he doesn’t have a single B&E on his CV, does he?’

  ‘That’s true’ said Hall, ‘but if we looked at him for Tuesday evening we could cover off both options.’

  ‘Yes, that would work’ said Jane, ‘and we could look at all the mobile calls made in the area of the hotel and where Baker was jumped, because they’ll both be on the same mast. Sure, we’ll probably only find their burners, if we’re lucky, but we could cross reference those calls against known numbers for George Hayton and all his associates and business premises. It’s a long shot, but someone might have been lazy.’

  ‘Good’ said Hall. ‘Let’s call it a night then, shall we? Ian, are you heading back down the road for the weekend? You’re due off, aren’t you?’

  ‘Aye, and you’re off sick, but you’re still here, aren’t you? No, I’ll be staying.’

  ‘Great, thanks. In that case, dinner is on me.’

  ‘Blimey, Andy’ said Mann, ‘those painkillers you’re taking must be right powerful. I’ve never heard you say that before.’

  Saturday, 26th April

  Keith Iredale was first into the office, and the old sergeant on the front desk had looked at his watch when he’d come in, and asked Keith if he couldn’t sleep. Iredale had smiled, and commented on the untidy state of the front office. ‘And I’ve heard the Chief is dropping in later, Brian’ he’d said, as he swiped his card on the reader for the door to the office. He was, he realised, in an especially cheerful mood. For the first time since he’d joined CID he really felt part of the team, like he always had in uniform, and for the first time he was aware of how much he’d missed that feeling.

  When he’d booted up his computer and made a brew he flicked through the log of the previous night’s reports and arrests, and it looked like a pretty typical pay-day Friday night. As his dad always said, for some people there was just too much month for the money, so the Super always rostered on a few extra coppers for the last weekend of the month. And it looked like they’d all been kept busy, not just in Workington but in Whitehaven and Maryport too.

  But there was nothing to interest Iredale, so he moved on to his email. As he was scanning through them a new one popped into his mailbox, from the traffic supervisor over in Carlisle. A car had just been found, burnt out, in a lay-by near Dalston, and it was a dark grey Renault Megane, like the one used for the burglary. The traffic inspector had left a couple of bobbies with the car, because he knew that it would be of interest to the Chris Brown suspicious death team, and he was asking how they wanted to proceed.

  Iredale had never typed an email so fast, and five minutes later he was pulling out of the station car park in a marked Astra. By the time he’d driven five miles he remembered what patrol cars were like, and why this one was the only one available. He called SOCO in Penrith, got voice-mail, so he tried Sandy Smith on her personal number.

  ‘This had better be a matter of fucking life and death’ she said, before he’d even said who it was. Iredale wondered if she spoke any differently to the ACC than she did to a humble DC like him, and he doubted it. He explained why he’d called, and Sandy sounded mollified.

  ‘Tell those bloody traffic numpties to keep their big boots off my locus, will you? I’ll see you there in half an hour. I expect you’ll be bloody running there or something, won’t you?’

  Iredale laughed, and rang off. He was surprised, and slightly flattered, that she even remembered who he was.

  Jane Francis called him about five minutes later. She sounded half asleep.

  ‘Can you manage on your own, Keith?’

  ‘I’m sure I can. The hardest part will be stopping Sandy from assaulting some poor bobby, won’t it?’

  Jane laughed. ‘You’re a fast learner, Keith. Take my tip and buy her a coffee and a bun from somewhere before you see her. She takes four sugars and three shots of coffee. I find she’s marginally less likely to attack when she’s on a caffeine and sugar high.’

  ‘But what about when she comes down?’

  ‘That’s not your problem though, is it? You’ll be half way back here by then.’

  The two traffic cops were pleased to see Iredale, and couldn’t wait to get away. Iredale guessed that they’d had dealings with Sandy before. Five minutes later Sandy Smith arrived in her van, and she accepted the coffee and cake as if a tribute had been expected.

  ‘Now, let the dog see the rabbit’ she said, when she’d finished. ‘I do enjoy a nice barbecue, don’t you, son?’

  An hour later Iredale was wondering if it was time to go for more coffee and cakes. A couple more of the SOCO team had turned up, and now the frequency, volume and intensity of Sandy’s sweary outbursts was definitely increasing.

  ‘You can push off back to the wild west’ she said, when she walked over to him. ‘There’s nothing to see here, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, sonny. When I say we’ve got nothing, we’ve got nothing. The vehicle was properly torched, they kn
ew what they doing did these lads, and there’s nothing of interest in the area around the car. When it’s uplifted we’ll check underneath, but don’t get your hopes up. Still, there’s always ANPR and traffic cameras. You might get something from then. At least you know where it ended up now, don’t you?’

  ‘Thanks anyway, Sandy’ said Iredale. ‘I’ll get on to that today, but pound to a penny they brought this heap over in the dark.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame them’ said Sandy cheerfully. ‘I’ve got a Renault myself, and I’m often tempted to set fire to the bloody thing, like.’

  Normally DCI Hall took a masochistic pleasure in mornings like this, with an investigation becalmed and a real effort of will, and of imagination, required from him to get it moving again. But this morning was different. He had slept badly, his knee was hurting, and it was more of an effort to stay positive. The news about the car didn’t help his mood, even though it wasn’t unexpected. Jane and Ian Mann seemed to be feeling much the same, because neither of them seemed keen to get the discussion started when they met in Hall’s borrowed office.

  Hall knew what they expected of him. And it wasn’t just sound leadership and solid decision making. Because any decent officer should be able to manage those things. What they were looking for from him was new investigative ideas that they could believe in. And as the three of them sat there, sipping their tea, he knew that he really didn’t have any.

  ‘So where are we at?’ he said, ‘and what are we worried about?’ He looked at Jane.

  ‘We’re still looking for the car from the time it was nicked, at about nine on Monday evening, until the time of the burglary. And we’re looking at Hayton’s timeline for Tuesday as well. Nothing much to report so far on either front. And it’s a really big assumption that Matt Hayton was even in that car.’