Mortal Men (The Lakeland Murders Book 7)

by J. J. Salkeld

  Iredale grinned.

  ‘You have to admit that she’s a looker though, don’t you?’

  Mann didn’t reply.

  ‘You are such a grumpy old bastard, Ian.’

  Jane read the email again, carefully, and then phoned Inspector Turner.

  ‘Nigel, it’s Jane. Where has this new report come from? I thought the door-to-door was finished?’

  ‘Husband of one of Foster’s neighbours. Two doors along. He was away on business when it happened, and he only got back last night. Anyway, he phoned in and I spoke to him.

  ‘So he’s saying he saw this car, a blue Nissan Murano, is it?’

  ‘That’s it. I had to look it up. A kind of 4x4 type thing, it is.’

  ‘And he was sure?’

  ‘Yes, he used to own one so he noticed it. In lovely nick, he said it was.’

  ‘And he saw it twice, on consecutive days, about three weeks ago? He was sure of that as well?’

  ‘Aye, absolutely. Sounded like a switched on kind of bloke.’

  ‘And this is a rare car, is it?’

  ‘Aye, I just had a quick look on the system and there are just a couple of thousand registered in the UK. So pretty unusual, aye.’

  ‘All right, thanks. And did he see the driver? And was he sure that he or she was in the house with Frankie?’

  ‘No, not for certain, like. He didn’t see the driver at all. But he did say that there was plenty of space, and that the car was parked right outside Frankie’s front door. So he just assumed, like.’

  ‘OK, good. With a bit of luck we’ll be able to find out who the car belongs to, so long as it drove along one of the trunk roads in the area.’

  ‘ANPR?”

  ‘Yes. It may take a bit of time, because we don’t have a specific date, but since it’s a rare car we should be able to narrow it down. By the way, what time of day are we talking about?’

  ‘Early evening, both times. The witness usually gets home around six, and he says it was soon after.’

  ‘Great, that helps narrow it down a bit more. Thanks, Nigel, that’s a big help.’

  ‘Do you want the bloke bringing in? Talk to him yourself?’

  ‘No need, mate. You asked everything that I would have.’

  As soon as Jane put the phone down she realised that there was a quicker way of identifying the car. She walked to her office door, and saw that Ian Mann and Keith Iredale had just walked in, laughing and joking as usual. Something about that irritated her.

  ‘Keith’ she called out, ‘can I grab you for a minute?’ He hurried over, and she liked that more. ‘I need you to find a car for me. Look at this interview note from Nigel Turner. The bloke just got back to the Lakes, that’s why we didn’t already know about it.’

  Jane swung her computer screen round, and Iredale read. ‘A Nissan Murano? I’ve never even heard of it. You want to know if any blue ones are registered locally, boss?’

  ‘I do. There are just a couple of thousand in the country, so you shouldn’t find too many round here. Let me know if you come across any, and then we can get the database checked. It’ll save someone, and that means you, from going through masses of ANPR records.’

  When he got one solitary hit, a blue Murano registered to someone with an address in Kendal, Iredale almost called out to Ian Mann immediately, but he didn’t. And nor did he head straight for Jane’s office. Instead he anticipated their next question, so he ran the name of the registered owner, Jeremy Taylor, through the PNC. ‘Bingo’ he said out loud, and pressed print. He grabbed the page a fraction of a second after the rollers let it go.

  But DI Francis seemed a little less excited than he’d expected her to be.

  ‘Get on to tech support, Keith. Give them this registration and ask for a report showing if it’s been along the A591, between Kendal and Ambleside. I’m especially interested in late afternoons and early evenings, weekdays only. Just go back six weeks, OK? And we’ll need it soonest. Get that underway, and then come back in with Ian, would you? I’d like to know a bit more about this Taylor character too. I think I’ve had the dubious pleasure of meeting him once, but I’m not certain.’

  ‘Will do, boss.’

  She smiled, because he was up and on his way so quickly.

  ‘Well done, Keith. Keep at it.’

  Quarter of an hour later the three officers were in her office, Jane sitting where Hall used to sit and Ireale where she used to be. Only Mann was in the same position, in the left hand chair, looking steadily across the meeting table at her.

  ‘Oh, aye, I know Jez Taylor. His convictions don’t do him justice, really.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘He’s nasty, proper nasty. You know the type. He’s the sort of bloke that you think about, worry about, when he only draws yet another fine or a suspended sentence. You just think about what he’ll do next, when it’s too late, like. I don’t mind a decent, working con, they’re good steady business for us, but he’s not that sort.’

  ‘Would he kill, though?’ asked Jane. ‘All right, he’s got a conviction for ABH, but it was years ago.’

  ‘Oh, aye, he’d blow someone’s head off with a shotgun, no problem. I wouldn’t doubt that for a second. If there was something in it for him, like.’

  ‘So what’s he up to? I assume he doesn’t have a straight job?’

  Mann laughed. ‘I haven’t seen him for a while, actually. His name never even crossed my mind when this happened, if I’m honest. Last I heard he’d taken to money-lending, loan sharking, like. You’d have to be barking mad to borrow off a bastard like him, mind.’

  ‘Or desperate’ said Keith.

  ‘Aye, Mother Teresa, or desperate.’

  ‘All right’ said Jane, ‘he sounds a bit more interesting now, I suppose. We know that Frankie Foster was receiving, and no doubt was on with a few other scams, but he seems to have had no assets, and sod all cash. So maybe it was all going to this Taylor character. Repayments, maybe.’

  ‘It’s possible’ said Mann, although Jane could hear the doubt in his voice. ‘But I thought that we fancied Tyson or Winder for this.’

  ‘Who’s ‘we’?’ said Jane, sharply. ‘Look, I know damn well Andy fancies those two for Foster’s murder, and no doubt you’ve talked to him about it, but I’ve never thought it’s likely. That bank job was too long ago to be a motive. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘I haven’t been talking to Andy’ said Mann, mildly. ‘I’d have thought you knew me better than that, Jane.’

  ‘Sorry. Of course I do. Forget I said it. Heat of the moment. But let’s get right on to this Jez Taylor. Priority one, as of now, please.’

  ‘You want him brought in?’

  ‘No, not yet. Let’s get that ANPR analysis and whatever we can get on his finances and background. We don’t have an intelligence file on him, I take it?’

  ‘No’ said Mann, ‘he never seemed worth it. Like I said he’s nasty, right enough, but he’s not a man of ambition, I’d say.’

  ‘So he works alone?’

  ‘Pretty much, aye. Does his own collecting anyway. I expect he likes it when the punters can’t pay.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, aye. He’ll have a go at anyone, will Jez. Man, woman, child: I don’t think he’s fussy about whether or not they can put up a fight. They just love the fear, get off on it, blokes like him do. It’d make my bloody year if we got to put him away for this one. It couldn’t happen to a nicer fella, and that’s a fact.’

  Andy Hall was thinking about his holidays, and wondering if southern France would be a bit too hot for Jane, when Will Armstrong knocked on his open door. He was carrying two mugs, which Hall usually regarded as a good sign. But this time he wasn’t entirely sure.

  ‘Can you spare me a minute, Andy?’

  ‘Of course. Come on in. You’ve come equipped, as they say.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t get you.’

  ‘You’ve brought teas. We say a burglar goes equi
pped, you see.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I get you.’

  ‘Sit yourself down. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about the ACC. About the way he’s been treating me.’

  ‘I see. But why talk to me? I’m not your line manager.’

  ‘I know, but you spoke to the ACC, didn’t you? About how he spoke to me.’

  Hall thought for a moment, his face impassive.

  ‘He mentioned that to you?’

  ‘Yes. He called me in for another bollocking today, and he said not to rely on you to save me. To tell you the truth I think you’ve actually made things worse, not better.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Will. So why are we talking now?’

  ‘I wanted to know if you’ll back me up.’

  ‘You’re planning to make a formal complaint against the ACC, is that it?’

  ‘For harassment, yes. You saw what happened. He can’t get away with that.’

  ‘You’d be surprised at what people get away with. But I saw the end of what looked to have been a heated meeting, yes. And you’re quite right, I did speak to the ACC about it afterwards.’

  ‘So you’ll back me up? He was bullying me, right?’

  ‘I’ll give a statement, if asked. It’s not up to me to decide whether or not what I saw constitutes inappropriate behaviour.’

  Armstrong got up quickly. Some of the tea slopped from his mug when his leg banged the table as he rose.

  ‘You’re all the bloody same, aren’t you?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Coppers. When it comes to it you all close ranks against the rest of us. They told me that when I joined.’

  ‘I’ve already said that I’ll give a statement. But you’re right, I am a sworn Police officer. So I’ll do what I’ve always done, and give a simple account of the facts, as I know them. If I’m asked, that is.’

  Armstrong was about to say something more when Hall’s phone started ringing.

  ‘Sorry, but I need to take this.’

  Armstrong stood where he was, and Hall picked up the phone. ‘Yes, Chief. Now? Sure. Anything you need me to bring with me? OK, I’ll see you in two minutes.’

  ‘What was that about?’ said Armstrong, flushing. ‘Was that about me? Of course it was. I bloody told you.’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Honestly, he didn’t say. There’s no reason to believe that it’s about you, is there? But I do need to go now, Will. I’m sorry if you don’t think I’ve been any help, but I have to go.’

  ‘You go. You’re just as bad as the ACC, and all the rest of them. Just another bloody coward, hiding behind a uniform.’

  ‘I haven’t worn a uniform in years. But do come and talk again, if you want to, OK?’

  ‘No point. I’m completely on my own in this shit-hole. I do get that.’

  The Chief’s office had been completely redecorated and furnished in advance of his arrival, some six months before. Hall had quite liked the old look, which he imagined is pretty much what a WW2 fighter base officers’ mess might have looked like. Now it resembled the sort of office that you saw in TV dramas, when power was underscored by hard lighting and even harder furniture. The only thing that was missing was a view across the Thames, but Hall preferred the trees anyway. At least they were still there. He hadn’t changed a thing about his own office, partly because he didn’t much care, but mainly because he didn’t want to waste money at a time when front-line policing was under such intense pressure. But it was self-evident that Charles Longley didn’t take the same view at all.

  ‘Thanks for dropping in’ he said, as Hall crossed the wide prairie of carpet between door and desk.

  ‘Not at all, sir. What can I do?’

  ‘I was after an opinion, that’s all. I’m just taking a sounding, as it were. Entirely informally.’

  ‘Concerning what, exactly?’

  Longley ran a hand through his dark hair. Hall wondered briefly if he dyed it, politician style, but decided that he was probably still too long to need to.

  ‘It’s about this killing down on your old patch. Very nasty business, by the way. I haven’t seen the photographs of course, but it sounds unpleasant.’

  ‘It does. I haven’t looked at the pictures either, but then it’s not my case. I don’t have any operational oversight of the case at all.’

  ‘I know, I know. But you do know the personalities, the people involved on our side.’

  ‘I do, and as you know I do have a personal interest. But they’re a good team, a very good team, and I took no part in the decision to promote Jane, let alone to assign her the SIO role.’

  ‘Of course not. But even so, Andy, I’d appreciate a view. Has Jane really got the experience?’

  Hall paused, and wondered what a politician would say in this situation. He realised that he didn’t have a clue. ‘From what I gather the team has a number of active lines of enquiry, sir, and I’m very confident indeed that they’ll pursue them in a thorough and professional fashion. But I sense that’s not what you’re asking.’

  ‘Perhaps not entirely, no. So tell me, how would you like to pop down there, just for a day or two? Initially, anyway.’

  ‘In what capacity?’

  ‘Observer, consultant, call it what you like. Be my eyes and ears, if you like.’

  ‘I don’t think that would go down very well at all. The team would feel as if it was a vote of no confidence, especially at this early stage.’

  ‘You mean that’s what DI Francis would think.’

  ‘It’s what they’d all think. And if you’re asking for a view, I’d certainly advise against. But I’d be more than happy to review the case files for you, and then offer a more informed view.’

  ‘I’m thinking that we need more, Andy. I bet you’re itching to be back in the midst of it all, aren’t you? I know that I would be, in your position.’

  ‘My advice is still against, sir.’

  ‘Well I’m sorry to hear that, I really am. Because I think I’m going to have to pull rank here, much as I hate to do so.’

  ‘So you want me to go to Kendal nick? But strictly as an observer, not as SIO?’

  ‘I leave that to you, Andy.’

  ‘Then I won’t interfere with the established chain of command in any way, sir. If that’s all right with you.’

  Longley waved a hand airily. ‘That’s an operational matter, Andy. I leave it entirely in your capable hands. I’m quite sure that you’ll do whatever is required to ensure that we achieve a speedy outcome to the case. I’m counting on you. Now, if there’s nothing else?’

  ‘Well, actually,’ said Hall, as he started to get up. ‘No, no, it doesn’t matter.’

  But Longley had already turned back to his computer, and he didn’t seem to hear Hall, or see him either. So he didn’t notice that Hall just stood for a few seconds, apparently lost in thought. Because he was already starting to think about how he’d break the news to Jane. And he was certain that there would be no easy way.

  Ian Mann always enjoyed a good identity parade. And in his book seeing a con getting fingered by the victim was always something to look forward to. Like a personal form of justice. Maybe even the best part of the whole process, for the victim. Knowing that the offender was standing there, exposed, with nowhere to hide, and nowhere to run. And just feet away their victim was pointing at them and saying, in a nice clear voice, ‘that’s him’ or, much less often, ‘that’s her.’

  Sometimes he was a bit tense before a parade, but not this time. He’d liked Ronnie Roberts as soon as he’d met him, a proper old school bobby. The old boy was as sharp as a tack too, and the half dozen women in the other room looked dissimilar enough for Tiffany Moore to be a relatively easy spot. She was as guilty as sin, even if her story about having been shown that bent gear was clever, by the usual con’s standard at least. So Mann was hopeful, and he watched as Roberts listened carefully as Iredale read the instructions to him, and Roberts nodded to indicate that
he’d understood.

  ‘Take your time, Ronnie’ said Mann helpfully. He was watching Tiffany closely through the one-way window. He did enjoy seeing the bastards squirm, so it was good to keep them in there for as long as possible. Watch them sweat up, in that hot, windowless room. But he had to admit that Tiffany still seemed remarkably calm, from this distance at least.

  The old man did take his time, too long, and Mann soon shot a glance across at Iredale. If it could have spoken it would have said ‘shit’.

  ‘I’m sorry, lads,’ Roberts said eventually, ‘but I’m not completely sure.’

  ‘That’s OK, that’s fine’ said Iredale. ‘Would you like a little longer?’

  The duty solicitor looked across at Iredale, and shook her head slowly. Then she went back to looking down at her phone.

  ‘I think it might be number three’ said Roberts, ‘but I can’t be sure. Not absolutely certain, anyhow. I’m sorry.’

  Mann wanted to say something, but he knew the rules. Tiffany Moore was number three, of course she bloody was, but the old man wasn’t going to be able to pick her out. Stupid old fool, he thought.

  ‘I told you his eyesight wasn’t up to much’ said Iredale, when he and Mann were back in the CID office.

  ‘Aye, you did. But he still knew it was her, didn’t he? Do you think he was frightened of her, is that it?’

  ‘What, that Tiffany’s mates would go round and sort him out? No, I don’t think his mind works like that. And, if I’m honest, I don’t think a positive ID would have done us much good, not unless she coughed to it after, which I very much doubt would have happened. Like I say, his eyes are gone, and that would have come out in court, we both know that.’

  ‘Maybe. She certainly seemed confident enough standing there, the bitch. She smiled you know, as they were going out.’

  ‘I expect she changed her appearance a bit as well’ said Iredale, ‘enough to sow a deed of doubt, anyway. But I still don’t understand why she’s doing it.’