by Bill Kitson
Nash raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘Some form of excrement,’ the pathologist explained.
Nash looked round at the meadows surrounding the village. ‘Probably cow shit’ – he pointed – ‘there must be a fair amount available. How was he killed?’
‘In a very unpleasant manner,’ Ramirez told him as he led him inside the tent. ‘He was alive when he was put in the stocks. I know that because his wrists and ankles are bruised and bled a considerable amount, as he struggled to free himself.’
Nash looked at the corpse. ‘Why didn’t he cry out for help? A place as quiet as this, someone would be bound to hear him.’
‘He couldn’t,’ Ramirez told him, his tone grim. ‘See the bloated appearance of the body, the way the cheeks are distended? The killer glued his eyes closed, squirted glue into each nostril and down his throat. As the glue set, breathing would have become more and more difficult, and eventually, impossible. He would have choked to death. It would have been a slow, painful and extremely unpleasant way to die.’
‘Very nasty,’ Nash agreed. They stepped back outside to the girls who were discussing their respective Christmases. ‘What do we know about the dead man?’
‘Mike, you’re not at work,’ Becky protested. ‘Leave Clara to get on with it.’
Nash stared at his sergeant. After a moment, she shrugged. ‘Early twenties, I guess. No identification on the body. There are needle marks that suggest long and sustained drug abuse. He’s in a disgusting state; appearance suggests he’d been living rough.’
She paused, and Nash asked, ‘So, who do you think he is? Someone we’re looking for with regard to a string of burglaries perhaps?’
Ramirez and Becky stared at him curiously. Clara smiled. ‘That obvious was it?’
‘The description of the suspect from the robbery at the butcher’s shop matches the victim almost perfectly.’
‘I agree,’ Clara nodded. ‘But we’ll have to wait on DNA to confirm it.’
‘The method of killing’s interesting.’ Nash’s voice was thoughtful, almost as if he was talking to himself.
‘Why do you say that?’ Clara asked.
‘Placing someone in the stocks was a traditional form of punishment. The fact that the killer chose them suggests he knew the dead man was a criminal. Although in this case the punishment is harsh in the extreme. So perhaps there’s more to the motive than mere retribution.’
‘Come on, Sherlock, that’s enough.’ Becky tugged at Nash’s arm. ‘I’m starving. Let’s go eat. Sorry to disturb you, Clara. I’ll try and keep him out of your hair, but whether he’ll eat anything’s a different matter. Probably spend all his time staring out of the window wondering if you’re doing things right.’
A phone call from forensics next day confirmed the dead man’s identity. Clara thought for a few moments. On impulse she reached for the phone.
‘Mike, it’s Clara. Are you busy?’
‘Bored rigid. Do you know how turgid daytime telly is? Is there a problem?’
‘It’s about that corpse; the one in the stocks. Something’s come up, and I don’t quite know what to make of it.’
Clara explained the development. ‘I know you’re not a great believer in coincidence, so I wondered what you thought.’
‘My first suggestion would be to try the Registrar’s office. See if you can locate North’s birth certificate. You might get the parents’ details that way. Always supposing Adam North is his right name. And that the birth was registered in this country.’
‘Thanks, Mike. I’ll try that. Hopefully, I’ll see you in a couple of days.’
The man known as Dr Richards had been driving home from Birmingham when the crash happened. The resulting injuries had not only caused him over a week’s stay in hospital but had left him frail. He walked slowly out of the entrance. Apart from the police officers who’d questioned him about the crash he’d had only one visitor; the woman who now came to greet him. He smiled at her, a gesture she didn’t return. ‘I’ve my car in the car park,’ she told him. ‘Do you think you can make it, or would you prefer to wait here and I’ll bring it round?’
‘I’ll make it,’ his voice sounded pitifully weak.
During the journey, they were silent for the most part. Once they’d cleared Leeds however, he stirred in his seat. ‘Where are we going? You’re not taking me home, surely?’
If he’d been watching her he’d have seen the tension in her face, noticed her hands gripping the wheel until the knuckles whitened. ‘No, I’m not taking you home,’ she said after a moment. ‘You wouldn’t have expected me to, would you?’
‘I suppose not. Why didn’t anyone else come to see me? I mean, I know things have been bad, but I’d have expected….’ His voice trailed off.
It was no good; she couldn’t dodge the issue any longer. ‘Look, there’s a motorway café just up the road. Why don’t we stop for a cup of tea? We need to talk.’
He looked across at her. It was unusual for her to be so reticent. ‘All right,’ he agreed.
When they were seated in the café she reached across the table and put her hand on his. ‘Do you remember anything about the day of the crash?’
‘Bits and pieces, that’s all. I remember the lecture, and us being together. That’s about it.’
‘Don’t you remember the phone call you got? From the office?’ she prompted him.
Memory stirred, but not vigorously enough. ‘Vaguely, but I can’t remember what it was about.’
‘You were asked to go straight to the laboratory. Not to go home first.’
‘That’s it. I wondered why. It seemed such a strange thing to ask.’
‘Well it wasn’t.’ Her grip on his hand tightened. ‘The reason they didn’t want you to go home was,’ she paused, ‘there was a fire the previous night. Your house was destroyed. There were two people inside, a man and a woman. Both died in the fire. The police haven’t been able to identify them yet, but they’re assuming them to be man and wife.’
She noticed his jaw tighten, felt his hand tremble slightly, his voice was calm. Unnaturally calm? ‘Presumably Lara and her lover.’
‘I’m afraid that’s not all.’
He looked up and she saw what she’d taken for calm was shock. Shock and distress. ‘What else?’
‘There was a body found last week, in what the police are describing as suspicious circumstances. I’m afraid it was Adam.’
‘Oh dear God, no. What was it? A drugs overdose?’
‘No, at least I don’t think so. I mean, he might have been drugged, but from what little we could find out, that wasn’t how he died.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Richard, I’m sorry. The police think Adam was murdered.’
She saw the bright glint of tears in his eyes. It was a long time before he spoke. Again, his voice had a calmness she knew was a shell, one that was almost at cracking point. ‘I gave up on Adam a long time ago. I tried everything. Rehab clinics, therapy, hypnotism, the lot. I gave him money, it didn’t work. Denied him money, he stole it. Kicked him out of the house, time after time. Took him back, time after time. I thought one day I’d get the news. A visitor, a phone call, whatever. Thought it would be an overdose. But not murder. Do you know what it was about? Was it over drugs?’
‘I don’t think the police know for certain. They don’t think it was drugs related, not directly, even though Adam had a lot of it in his system.’
He looked up in sudden alarm. More than that: panic. ‘What about Jessica?’
‘She’s all right. Our people have her safe. She doesn’t know what’s happened yet.’
‘What do you mean “our people have her safe”?’
‘They’ve taken a house near the laboratory. All she knows is she’s to wait there until you arrive. They didn’t tell her anything, but they reassured her you were fine.’
‘I don’t understand. Why the need for all this security?’
‘They’re concerned for your safety. Yours and Jessica
’s. They weren’t too worried about Lara, but after Adam was killed, somebody hit the panic button.’
‘You mean they reckon Lara’s death might not have been accidental?’
‘They’re not sure, but you know what they’re like. They won’t take the chance. There was a security breach at the lab just before all this kicked off.’
‘I thought the place was watertight.’
She grimaced. ‘So did they. Whoever got in was cleverer than they thought. They sawed through a tree close to the main power lines, caused a power blackout over the county for several hours. Long enough for an intruder to get over the fence. By the time the guards realized, he’d long gone. He made a bit of a mess in the labs before he got into the office block.’
‘What on earth was he doing in the office block? Why not just the lab?’
‘That’s the bit that got our spooks spooked. He went through all the personnel records. Not only went through them, but took a portable, battery operated copier with him. Cheeky swine left it behind when he’d finished.’
‘Do they know what the records he copied were?’
‘Personal details; family, home address, all the things they’re supposed to be keeping out of the public domain.’
‘Any idea who might be behind it?’
‘The official line is it might be down to one of the more violent animal rights groups. Given what we do at the lab, I suppose they’re the most natural suspects.’
‘Caroline, will you do me a very great favour? Will you go with me when I tell Jessica? I’m not sure I can do it on my own.’
She thought about it. ‘Very well, but I don’t think she should learn about us. Not now, and probably not for a long time.’
Chapter Six
‘Morning, Mike. Couldn’t keep away?’ Clara reached the CID suite next morning to find Nash was already in his office. She heard movement and peered in.
‘Becky got called in by The Gazette, so I thought I might as well come to work as well. I’ve been reading the file on the Adam North murder. Have you made any progress tracing the rest of the family?’
‘I have the paperwork on my desk, I’ll go get it.’ She returned seconds later. ‘I had a lot of trouble finding anything, but eventually I managed to locate details of a passport application for Adam North. It was made about six years ago. On the same date there was another application, for a Jessica North, aged twelve. The parents’ details are the same, so I assume they are brother and sister. The reason there’s no registration for them in the UK is they were born abroad. In the United States, to be precise. The parents are listed as Richard and Lara North, nee Matthews. The father’s occupation is given as university lecturer, mother is shown as housewife. I was going to try contacting universities round here today, see if North’s been engaged by any of them. Even if he hasn’t, they might know of him.’
‘It would be useful to find out what subject he specializes in. I take it North senior is a British citizen?’
‘Yes, both he and his wife are, or were. We’re still not sure if he’s alive or dead.’
‘I think we have to assume he’s dead. Why else hasn’t he been in contact?’
‘I traced their birth certificates once I’d the details from The Passport Office. He was born in Leeds, forty-five years ago. Interestingly, his mother’s maiden name was Richards. That was the surname on the mail sent to the Gorton address. That was what the locals knew him as.’
‘I wonder why they needed to use assumed names? What were they hiding from? Or who? Did you make enquiries with the authorities in America?’
‘I did, I sent an e-mail to the FBI, but as yet I haven’t had a reply, unless something came in overnight. Mind you, I’m not sure I want to know what they find out. The problem with this case is, every bit of new information we get throws up more questions.’
‘If you’re going to be tied up ringing universities this morning, why not get Viv to do an internet search on Richard North? It may give us something. I realize it could be historical, if he’s been living under a false name for a while, but it could shed some light on what the elusive Mr North was up to, before he found it necessary to disguise his identity.’
Nash paused, as a random thought struck him. ‘Whilst he’s doing that, get him to enter Dr Richard North as well. If he’s a lecturer, we could safely assume him to be well qualified.’
‘OK, I’ll get him onto it as soon as he gets here.’ Clara turned to leave; then looked over her shoulder. ‘By the way, Mike, it is good to have you back.’
Nash looked at her suspiciously; then realized she was being serious, not lining him up for another insult.
By mid-afternoon, Nash was beginning to wonder whether he’d have been better off at home watching Cash in the Attic, Bargain Hunt or Loose Women. The first intimation that all might not be as it should came via a reply from the FBI. Sent from their Quantico headquarters, it was phrased in terms that could be diplomatically described as curt, but more accurately, downright rude. The message was to the effect that even had the American law enforcement agency been in possession of any information about Richard North they were either unable or unwilling to share such knowledge with their British counterparts.
Nash was still trying to work out whether the FBI actually knew anything and were being deliberately obstructive, or they didn’t and weren’t prepared to admit their ignorance when Clara entered his office. ‘I’ve tried all the universities in the north of England,’ she told him, ‘including those Metropolitan ones.’
Nash smiled. ‘They used to be called Technical Colleges in my day.’
‘I’d no idea there were so many. Not that it did me any good. None of them have a Richard North on their teaching faculty. There’s a Helen North at Newcastle, but she’s sixty-three, comes from Northumberland and teaches Eastern history. I think we can count her out.’
Nash’s phone rang. It was Superintendent Edwards. ‘How are things going?’
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘Guesswork!’
‘I’ve a few difficulties to sort out.’
‘They wouldn’t be about the Adam North murder by any chance, would they?’
Nash’s eyes opened wide with surprise. ‘How did you guess that?’
‘That wasn’t a guess. To be honest, I had a phone call about half an hour ago, some captain from Military Intelligence. He informed me that inquiries into this matter were out of our jurisdiction and that I should instruct my officers to refrain from asking any questions that were unconnected with the actual killing. He went on to suggest we concentrate on the drugs connection, and that he felt sure we’d find that was the motive behind the crime. On no account were we to attempt to involve other members of North’s family in our investigation.’
‘Really? And what did you say to that?’
Her reply left Nash grinning. ‘I apologized for missing the announcement of his appointment as Chief Constable. And I followed that up by explaining that the Chief Constable was the only person I take orders from. I certainly don’t instruct my detectives to follow lines of inquiry based on vague assertions from a junior army officer.’
‘What was his reaction to that?’
‘He said he was going to ring God and tell her what he’d told me. Said he felt sure she’d be more cooperative. So I told him to go ahead, but I nipped in to see her before he had chance. My instructions from Gloria are, “Continue to pursue the investigation and don’t let anything or anybody get in your way”. I don’t think she likes being threatened any more than I do.’
‘That’s the best news I’ve had today, and it confirms my suspicion that there’s more to this case than meets the eye: much more.’ He went on to tell her about the message from the FBI. ‘As a result of what we’ve learned, I’m going to treat the Gorton house fire as a suspicious death, and accordingly we’ll be investigating three murders instead of one.’
‘Any ideas how you’re going to proceed, given that you’ve so little hard
evidence?’
‘I’ve a couple of thoughts that I’m going to get Clara and Viv working on.’ He explained them before adding, ‘I know it’s a long shot, but that’s about all we have.’
‘Go to it. Keep me posted. And if you get any further attempts to obstruct your investigation I expect you to take a hard line.’
Nash put the phone down. It seemed as if the attempt to block their inquiry had only succeeded in putting Ruth’s back up, which suited him fine. He looked up to see Pearce hovering in the doorway. ‘I’ve trawled the internet,’ Viv told him. ‘I couldn’t find anything relating to Richard North, not our Richard North anyway. There’s a Canadian novelist and a New Zealand academic whose speciality is Maori culture, but that’s all. Oh, and I’ve a message for you. Doug Curran wants a word. He said it’s about the Gorton fire.’
‘OK, I’ll ring him. You’d better come in. We’ll go about finding North another way.’
Nash picked up the phone. ‘Doug, you wanted a word?’ He listened for a few moments. ‘That’s interesting, very interesting indeed. Does it mean what I think it means?’
Nash stared at the file on his desk. He looked up. ‘Curran’s just told me their forensics people had another look at the seat of the blaze at the house near Gorton. They found several more pieces of tubular plastic on the kitchen floor, some of them melted, some of them intact. Somebody wasn’t as careful about covering their tracks as they should have been.’
Pearce frowned. ‘What do you mean, tubular plastic?’
‘The outer layer that insulates electric cables. Somebody stripped down the cables, leaving the wiring exposed. Then they located it close to a collection of highly inflammable cleaning products; they’d been placed on a worktop next to the cooker. Tell me who in their right mind stacks cleaning stuff next to a heat source as powerful as an electric range cooker. All the killer had to do was switch the mains power back on and leave the building. Now, as to Dr North,’ Nash explained what he wanted. ‘Let’s hope we meet with more success doing it this way round.’ He paused and added, ‘Let’s face it, we couldn’t have any less.’
