It sounded conciliatory.
‘It means he has all day, every day to find Ledley.’
I walked over to the table and stared over at Hobbs. ‘I’ll need another team of officers for the search in Pontypool. And a team keeping tabs on Walsh.’
Hobbs parted his lips but said nothing, realising his contribution would be unwelcome.
‘And a team following Norcross.’ I didn’t wait for Hobbs to object and I left.
Lydia, Jane and Wyn all stood up when I entered the Incident Room and gave me troubled looks.
I marched over to the board. ‘I’ve got more officers for the Pontypool search.’
There were grudging nods of approval. ‘We need to find Ledley.’
I listened as Wyn recounted his exploration into Ledley’s family background. It had been a fruitless search so far. We knew he had been born in Lowestoft on the east coast of England but then nobody knew why he had arrived in Cardiff. Wyn had called the police in the Suffolk town and they’d reported that he had no family there and nothing was known about him.
‘What brought him to Cardiff?’ I said.
Nobody answered.
‘Lydia, you’re with me – let’s go back to Pontypool.’ I looked over at Wyn and Jane again. ‘I need you both to be going over everything about Ledley. If he’s a likely supergrass then Bevard’s death has got to be the biggest motivation possible for him to come forward and implicate Walsh.’
I reached for my car keys, found my jacket and headed out for Pontypool.
Lydia settled into the passenger seat but although it was her turn to choose a CD she must have realised it wasn’t the time for opera. I powered the car along Newport Road and on towards the motorway.
On the motorway, I switched on the police lights and accelerated into the outside lane. Traffic cleared out of our way and soon I reached the junction for Cwmbran. I indicated left and as we slowed for the increasing traffic, my impatience grew. The journey along the A4042 dragged. Lydia commented about the vagaries of the judicial system but I said little. Eventually I pulled into the car park of the police station in Pontypool and we hurried into a conference room. I recognised Williams and Barclay but none of the dozen or so others were standing around the room. They stiffened from their relaxed postures as I strode in. A map with large circles drawn on various parts had been pinned to the board against a wall with an image of Ledley pinned to one side.
‘The original teams are still out there,’ Williams said. ‘There is a new team of lads from Eastern Division. And there might be more arriving later.’
The young faces in front of me looked to be straight out of the training academy.
‘We’re looking for a man called Jack Ledley.’ I pointed at his image. ‘He’s a person of special interest in an ongoing murder inquiry.’ Several intense stares bored into me. ‘His life is at risk and we need to find him.’ I turned to Lydia and she gave me a photograph of Jimmy Walsh. I pinned it under the image of Ledley. ‘And if you see Jimmy Walsh around call me at once. He is dangerous. And if anyone tells you that someone else has been asking for Ledley then call me.’
There was nervous blinking now and clenching of jaw muscles. Once the officers left I walked outside and put a cigarette to my lips. The police station in Pontypool had survived the modernisation programme of the Wales Police Service and I guessed that it was a political decision more than operational imperatives from the cramped and old-fashioned premises I had seen that morning.
Smoke scoured my windpipe and I pulled my jacket collar nearer my face. Winter was around the corner but for now I could still smoke outside. The citizens of Pontypool paid me little attention as they wandered past the police station. A pair of elderly women were deep in conversation outside a charity shop and several men walked past me with dogs on leashes. I ground the butt of the cigarette under my shoe and walked back inside.
Lydia was alone now in the conference room making notes and staring at the board. ‘I think we might extend the scope of the search. We’ve been focusing on Pontypool because Bevard bought stuff in that shop. But we could extend the search south to Griffithstown.’
‘How far do we go? We’ll have reached Cwmbran and then Newport before we know it.’
We stared in silence at the settlements marked on the map knowing that Ledley was sitting somewhere watching the television or reading the newspaper. ‘I need to see these places.’
‘There are teams all over the town,’ Lydia said. ‘I don’t think that we could add anything.’
She was right but I wanted to be on the ground banging on doors.
My mobile rang: I snatched at the handset. It was an unfamiliar number. ‘Detective Inspector Marco. Area control. Your mother has been involved in a road traffic accident.’
Chapter 39
The satnav offered me two routes to Nantgarw where Mamma had crashed. Instinct made me choose the longer route that skirted to the south of Caerphilly rather than retracing my route to the motorway and its jams. Half an hour later I pulled up near a marked police car parked behind Mamma’s Ford Focus.
In front of it was an ambulance and I saw her sitting inside, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
‘We called an ambulance, sir,’ the road traffic officer said once I’d carded him. ‘But I don’t think she’s hurt.’
I strode over to the paramedics and Mamma’s face lit up when she saw me.
‘John, it all happened so fast.’
‘Your mother should be seen by a doctor,’ a green-cladded paramedic said.
Mamma shook her head. ‘No hospital.’
‘It really would be for the best …’
‘I need to speak to John.’
The paramedic left us alone.
‘The black van followed me,’ she whispered.
An icy finger ran up my spine.
‘It followed me from the hospital. How did they know where I was, John?’
‘I …’
‘It got very close so I pulled off the road. I wasn’t driving fast.’
‘Did you see any of the men inside?’
‘It all happened so quickly.’
She pulled the blanket closer to her face. ‘He started to bump the car.’
I scarcely believed what she was telling me.
‘The van hit me lots of times. Back and forth. I was really frightened. Then he pulled away and he overtook me and made me stop. He was in front of me and I was scared. He came over to the car.’
‘He started shouting.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That we had once last chance to sell. Friday, he kept saying that Friday was the end of it.’
I grasped her hand.
‘Can you describe the man?’
She shook her head. ‘He was wearing a mask.’
‘I think you should go to the hospital – get them to check you out.’
She shook her head again. ‘Papa is coming home tomorrow.’
I jumped out of the ambulance and spoke to one of the paramedics. ‘She wants to go home.’
He started to protest but I raised a hand. ‘I’ll make certain she sees a doctor.’
I turned to the traffic officer standing by his patrol car. ‘I’m calling a CSI team. I need the car examined so stay here until they arrive.’
The ambulance drove off, heading for Aberdare and my parents’ home. I sat in my car dictating specific instructions for Alvine Dix. She mumbled a complaint about it being late and that her shift was finishing soon and did I know what the overtime bill had been like last month. My patience finally snapped. ‘It’s my mother, for Christ’s sake. Just do it. Now.’
I tossed the mobile into the passenger seat and drove after the ambulance. I pulled onto the drive as one of the paramedics helped Mamma into the house. She looked relieved to see me as she flopped onto the sofa. After the paramedics left I made coffee but when I returned to the living room she was fast asleep.
I called one of my parents’ neighbours who
came round immediately. Jan East had been friends with Mamma for over twenty years and listened with open-mouthed disbelief as I gave her a redacted version of the hit-and-run.
‘I’ll be back later and in the meantime any problems give me a call.’
I left the house. My anger with Walsh was turning into something much darker. I drove down into Cardiff. I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel and powered the car on to Cyncoed.
I pulled in by the kerb and looked over at The Glades.
It was pathetically unimaginative name for a house.
Walsh’s Range Rover Sport was parked next to a BMW Series 4 coupe. I thought of my father, and the image of my mother sitting in the ambulance came to mind. I had no choice. I got out of the car and marched over the road.
Jimmy Walsh emerged from the house with an empty bottle of champagne and walked towards the rear of his double garage. He hadn’t seen me until I almost reached the tailgate of his 4x4. My blood was already at boiling point.
‘Stay the fuck away from my family, Jimmy.’
He stopped in his tracks and looked over at me, a narrow grin creasing his face. I stepped towards him.
‘This is private property.’
‘I know what you did to my mother, you bastard. And if you ever—’
‘And what are you going to do, John Marco? Fuck all, that’s what.’
‘There’ll be evidence.’
‘Like the evidence you’ve got for the Bevard case? Nothing, that’s what you’ve got. And as for that pathetic film. Well Glanville thinks we’ll have it thrown out before you even get to court.’
He took two quick paces towards me and he jabbed the bottle in my direction. ‘Now this is private property. You’re trespassing.’
I clenched my fists. I could almost touch him.
‘If you ever go near my mother again—’
‘Fuck off policeman. This is private property.’
I seriously contemplated launching myself at him. And kicking the shit out of him. There were no witnesses in the drive, but Bernie Walsh was probably inside, an empty champagne glass in hand waiting for a refill. I unclenched my fist. I had to make it legal. I had to make certain he went down for the rest of his days. I could see now why the senior management of the WPS wanted him convicted so badly.
I backed away and retreated down the drive.
‘Next time I’ll report you.’ Walsh shouted after me.
I got back to my car, the sweat dripping down from my armpits. I tapped the steering wheel with a clenched fist and sat there for a few minutes. By now, the curfew restrictions had started and not even Walsh would venture outside. In the morning, a team would follow his every movement. My mouth felt dry and exhaustion swept over me.
* * *
It was an odd sensation waking up in my parents’ home in the room I had used as a child. The curtains were the same although the wallpaper had been changed in favour of a neutral off-white colour that matched the shining gloss of the woodwork. Everything I had to do that day swam around my mind: every CCTV camera covering the route from the hospital to the scene of the hit-and-run would need to be viewed. Then forensics pressurised to produce a report. And I needed to coordinate every available officer to be looking for Jack Ledley.
I heard the sound of Mamma on the staircase downstairs, realising the twelve hours’ sleep she had last night must have been beneficial. It was just after eight so I padded downstairs. Mamma sat by the kitchen table waiting for the kettle to boil.
‘How are you feeling this morning?’ I said.
‘Tired.’
‘There’ll be a policeman here later to keep an eye on you.’
‘I’ll be all right. Don’t fuss.’
Boiling water made a thumping sound in the kettle which switched itself off but Mamma stayed put. I made her coffee; she had never liked tea. Then I organised cereal and toast which she ate without enthusiasm.
‘Papa will be okay you know.’
‘Don’t tell him what happened.’
I could tell there was little conviction in her voice. I shook my head slowly. ‘Not today maybe but …’
There was a knock at the door and Mamma’s neighbour Jan bustled in. Once I had showered, I kissed Mamma and left her, with her neighbour mouthing confirmation that everything would be fine.
I stood on the front door step and lit my first cigarette of the day. I rang the forensics department and was pleased to hear Tracy’s voice. I had rung her last night to tell her about my mother before she had heard it from Alvine. ‘I’m really sorry, John.’ Tracy sounded too formal and detached somehow. ‘How is she?’
‘Tired. Is there any news on the forensics?’
‘Alvine has made it a priority. Maybe later this morning.’
I rang the Incident Room and dictated instructions for Wyn to find the right CCTV coverage and for Jane to review Walsh’s known associates. I heard a shout in the background and thought I heard Lydia’s voice. Then a scuffle as the handset was passed to her.
‘Good morning, boss. We’ve got a name for Ledley’s girlfriend.’
Chapter 40
It should have taken me forty-five minutes to reach Pontypool but I managed it in thirty-five although I expected several other road users to complain about my driving from the gesticulating that followed me as I overtook erratically and cut inside cars.
Donna Wilkinson, Jack Ledley’s girlfriend, had an address in Pontypool and I had to hope Jimmy Walsh didn’t have the same information.
I parked alongside Lydia’s car. As I left the car my mobile rang.
‘Inspector Marco? I was asked to call you if Jimmy Walsh left his house.’
Tightness returned to my chest. The officer responsible for following Walsh continued. ‘He’s travelling towards the motorway in a Range Rover Sport.’
‘Keep me informed.’
I headed to the main entrance of the police station and found Lydia deep in discussion with a uniformed sergeant.
‘This is Sergeant Tom White – he knows the family.’
White had an eighteen-inch collar, at least, and more flab than was healthy for him. He looked world-weary as though a lifetime of policing had taken its toll. ‘The Wilkinson family are well known. Donna has two brothers that have been in trouble before. One of them did a stretch for aggravated burglary and the other has been involved in some low-level drug dealing. We had a tip-off a while back that the younger brother was growing cannabis in a disused railway tunnel. It turned out he was growing mushrooms and selling them in the local markets for cash. He was fiddling his income support. We reported him to the government department but nothing happened. Nothing ever does but—’
I didn’t want to be here all morning. ‘Where does she live?’
Lydia pointed at the map and ran her finger to a street in Griffithstown.
‘It’s in the middle of a terrace, boss.’
‘And there’s a back lane?’ I looked over at White who nodded.
‘Let’s go.’
I ran back to my car, Lydia by my side. My mobile rang again and I took the call as I jumped into the car. ‘Norcross is on the move, sir. I was to notify you if he left the house.’
‘Where is he going?’
‘He’s going down towards Newport Road.’
I raised my voice. ‘Follow him and make sure you don’t lose him.’
Norcross was heading in the same direction as Walsh.
All the mistakes made in the previous Oakley inquiry came to mind. Ledley might well be implicated in a murder so as of right now we should have been arresting him. Maybe that was the right thing to do. Maybe the right thing didn’t matter any more when all that mattered was getting enough evidence against Walsh to put him behind bars for ever.
Lydia turned up her nose when she got into the car and then powered down the window, making an exaggerated gesture of wafting away the smell of stale smoke. We followed the unmarked car from the police station on the short journey to Griffithstown. I
parked with one set of wheels on the pavement near a junction. I spotted the right street name on the gable of the end terrace. My mobile rang. ‘It’s one of the houses halfway down.’ I recognised White’s voice.
‘Call me once you’ve got the back lane covered.’
I watched as White and a young constable left their car and walked down the rear lane.
My mobile rang. It was the officer following Walsh. ‘We’ve lost him, sir.’
I shouted. ‘What the hell do you mean?’
‘There was a lot of traffic on the Newport Road. We lost him near the Cardiff Gate park.’
‘Well bloody well go and find him.’
I called the officer following Norcross. ‘Where is he?’
‘I think he knows he’s being followed, sir.’
‘What the fuck do you mean?’ I knew I sounded desperate.
‘He slows then accelerates as though he wants us to do the same. And there’s a lot of traffic.’
‘Keep me informed.’ I looked over at Lydia who had guessed what had happened judging by her frown.
My mobile rang seconds later. ‘Looks quiet,’ White said.
I drove down the street until I reached number twelve.
With the rear covered, there was nowhere for Ledley or Donna to go. I marched up to the front door and rang the bell. It didn’t work. I rapped my knuckles on the door. Nothing. Then I formed a fist and knocked. The neighbour’s front door squeaked open.
‘You after Danny, love?’ A woman with a flour-dusted apron stood on the threshold. ‘Only he works nights.’
‘Who lives with him?’
‘Hard to tell. It’s a big family, mind. Who are you? Council?’
‘Does his daughter live here?’ I smiled at the woman.
‘Donna? Haven’t seen her for a while. She used to hang around with my Hayley. Thick as thieves they were. Always in trouble. Tell me your name and I’ll tell Danny.’
I banged on the door again. ‘Thanks for your help.’
The woman sulked back into the house.
Lydia was talking into her mobile and I guessed White was outside the rear door. I leant down, pushed open the letterbox and shouted. ‘Danny, wake up.’
Somebody Told Me Page 23
