IMPOSTURE

by Ray Clark

  Chapter Twelve

  As quickly as the information was digesting, Gardener’s phone rang. He listened to a message before glancing at Reilly.

  “That was Winter in cyber, he’s found something interesting.”

  “I wouldn’t have banked on this much good luck when I woke up this morning,” said Reilly. “Let’s head to his office.”

  “Thank you, Mr Farrah,” said Gardener, “I really appreciate what you’ve done for us.”

  “Keep me posted,” he said.

  Gardener and Reilly left Farrah’s office. On the way to his new destination, Gardener phoned Edwards and gave him the registration of the vehicle. Five minutes later and one floor down they were sitting with Winter and Pearson. Gardener denied the offer of a drink but Reilly’s eyes widened when it was offered with mince pies.

  Once seated, Winter went on to summarise what they had so far picked up. “We’ve been really busy in the last few days, digging into David Hunter’s computer, his phone records and the information we found in the attaché case. We’re pretty sure now that he was being blackmailed because of the evidence we’ve found to support it. He was clever enough to recognise what was going on. He’d managed to start a trace; made a note of the Bitcoin wallet the blackmail money was moving to.”

  That had answered one of Gardener’s questions so he remained silent for the time being.

  “Are you saying that you have real names for these people now?” asked Reilly.

  Shona Pearson nodded and raised her eyes. “We think so. It’s taken since we spoke to you last to get past all the firewalls and secret codes embedded in some of their programming. What we’ve come up with is, James Henshaw, Zoe Harrison, Michael Foreman, and Anthony Palmer.”

  “And why do you think they’re real?” asked Gardener.

  “We managed to unearth them through the cryptocurrency transactions,” said Winter, “and David Hunter’s computer – although that took some cracking.”

  “Stands to reason, he worked for a bank,” said Reilly.

  Winter nodded. “We continued to dig into the initials DPA. We’re still not sure what it stands for, or whether or not they have a website yet, but what we did find – at least we believed we did – was that they operated from a business premises in Leeds called V-Tech.”

  “Leeds?” questioned Gardener.

  “However,” said Shona Pearson, “when we checked, it didn't exist. It was a bunch of derelict buildings on a waste piece of land at the end of a small side street. So they are still managing to cover their tracks – every step of the way.”

  “What about home addresses?” Gardener asked. “Were you able to get anything on those?”

  Shona Pearson passed him a printout of all the information they had so far uncovered. Whether or not the addresses were real was another matter.

  “Thank you for this, you must have been working around the clock.” Gardener had to think quickly. “We obviously have two cases here, with two specialist teams. The cyber crime is certainly all yours and I suspect you still have a long way to go before you uncover all of that stuff.

  “The hit and run, and the murders of David and Ann Marie Hunter are ours. To save us all running round, we need to put a SPOC in place: one from your team in my incident room, and one from ours in yours.”

  Winter nodded. “Would you like to do that, Shona?”

  “Yes, I’m up for it, be interesting see how you guys work.”

  Glancing at the time it was midday. Gardener was on the phone immediately requesting a callout for every member of his team back in the incident room within the hour for a briefing and fresh tasks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Another two days passed before the team assembled again to give Gardener the results of his previous actions, following Farrah’s and Winter’s revelations. Finally having a registration meant he wanted to know more about the vehicle: where had it been bought; what they actually knew about it and where was it now.

  As far as people were concerned, he wanted everyone who lived near the DPA team questioned as to their whereabouts. Were the addresses real, or a dead end like the business premises? Were the cyber crime scammers at home, or had they too disappeared like the vehicle? Had they left the country? Airports needed checking. He wanted his team all over it because it was very late in the day to gather information from an old crime scene. Everyone knew the first twenty-four hours were the most important.

  Although they had finally started to move, he still didn’t feel like they were any further on. Once his team was assembled, Gardener told them that he and Reilly had visited the address of James Henshaw the previous afternoon.

  “Don’t tell me,” said Rawson, “it was false, probably a care home or something.”

  “No, believe it or not,” said Gardener. “But James wasn’t home.”

  “Who was?” asked Rawson. “And where was he?”

  “That’s where it all gets complicated,” said Reilly.

  “Don’t tell me,” said Sharp, “he doesn’t exist.”

  “Oh, he does,” said Reilly.

  Gardener took over. “We forced DCI Briggs to get us a warrant and we searched the house, took everything we could lay our hands on – which wasn’t much: the family computer and Rosie’s mobile. His wife, Rosie, said he was in Brussels on a business trip. We interrogated her, she wasn’t very happy. Judging by what she said, she’s as much in the dark about her husband’s activities as anyone else. He’s a very successful businessman going by their standard of living but she doesn’t seem to know half and a quarter of what he’s up to.”

  “And she certainly doesn’t believe he was involved in any of this,” added Reilly.

  “Was he in Brussels?” Sharp asked.

  “Not that we found. We checked the details she had: where he was staying, where he’d left from, and when. Nothing matched up. He is most definitely not at the hotel, and he was not on the flight he was supposed to be on.”

  “Bet that pleased her,” said Rawson.

  “She wasn’t in the best of moods when we left,” said Reilly.

  “Have you any idea where he is?” asked Benson.

  “No,” said Reilly. “Here’s another good one, the wife confirmed they had a Range Rover Overfinch that had been involved in an accident, which was being repaired in a garage in Skipton. We took the details, paid the garage a visit, they’d never seen it.”

  “Did she say anything about the accident, what she believed it to be?” asked Julie Longstaff.

  “She only knows what her husband told her,” said Gardener, “that someone hit him at a junction in Leeds, but she wasn’t sure where.”

  “And you have no idea where the vehicle really is?” asked Gates.

  “No.”

  “I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes when he finally shows his face,” said Sharp.

  “Do you get the impression she’s in on it?” asked Rawson.

  “We don’t think so,” said Gardener. “Her reactions were pretty genuine.”

  “Especially when she found out he wasn’t in Brussels,” said Reilly.

  “So if his car was smashed up and he went out to work every day, how did he get there?” asked Colin Sharp.

  “According to Rosie he was out of the door pretty early every morning, almost always before anyone else in the house had risen. She said he was regularly picked up by the others, they took it in turns.”

  “So they all had cars,” said Rawson. “Don’t suppose she knows the models, does she, or a registration?”

  Gardener shook his head. “Afraid not.”

  Rawson sighed. “Might have helped if she had.”

  “What about the registration of the Overfinch?” asked Longstaff.

  “J1 AME,” said Gardener, glancing at Patrick Edwards. “What have you found, Patrick?”

  “It’s registered to Hammer Studios in Buckinghamshire, sir.”

  “Hammer Studios?” repeated Reilly. “Didn’t think they were still aroun
d.”

  “To a company or an individual?” Gardener asked.

  “A Mr Lee, C. Lee.”

  “Mr C. Lee of Hammer Studios, out at Bray?” said Rawson. “That’s inventive.”

  Gardener shook his head. He’d seen enough films – courtesy of his father – to know what that could possibly mean. Christopher Lee was one of the biggest stars of his day.

  Edwards continued. “Me and Paul discussed the plate, trying to work it out – what it might stand for.”

  Benson took over. “J, A & E might stand for Jack, Alfie – or Anthony, as the case may be – and Edna.”

  “But we’re not sure about the M,” said Edwards, “unless it was Morse and not Conrad.”

  “Further digging revealed the car had its first service at a dealership in Slough. We contacted them. It didn’t get us very far, other than verification but it was worth a call.”

  “Did you find out who paid the bill?” asked Gardener. “And how they paid? Was there any footage of the individual in the dealership?”

  “We’re just waiting for that, sir,” said Benson. “They got a bit cagey and read us the spiel about data protection and all that.”

  “So we read them the riot act,” said Edwards, “and we asked Mr Briggs to give them a call and send us what we needed.”

  “But we don’t have it yet?” Gardener asked.

  Benson shook his head. “No.”

  “Give them another call, keep on the case.”

  “We banged it on the ANPR but so far, no pings.”

  “We need to read traffic the riot act as well, see what they can find on the CCTV cameras,” said Reilly, “but if we haven’t seen anything on ANPR, maybe they removed the number plates after the accident. But even that should have stood out.”

  “What about James’ home PC?” asked Sharp.

  “We scoured it,” said Longstaff. “Been at it all night, the only thing on it was family home movie footage.”

  “So there’s obviously a business computer somewhere else,” said Gates, “the important one that does all the damage.”

  “I know I wanted all the airports checking,” said Gardener, “and I realise it was a tall order, and I doubt you’ll have managed all that in two days, but do we have anything at all on James Henshaw?”

  “If he left the country he didn’t use his own name, or any of the others we know them by.”

  “What we need here are some good photos of them all so that we can go back to the airports,” said Gardener, glancing at the whiteboard. “So far we only have one of James Henshaw courtesy of his wife. What about phones, internet, or bank accounts? Did his computer reveal any of that?”

  “Nothing we can put to good use,” said Gates.

  “What about the other three?” Gardener asked.

  “Michael Foreman lives in Skipton,” said Rawson, “or did until he disappeared.”

  “He’s disappeared as well?” Gardener asked.

  “According to his neighbours he’s not been seen for a while.”

  “When was the last time?”

  “No one can remember. It doesn’t seem the sort of a place where people mix. New apartment block, I don’t think anyone really knows anyone else. Anyway, I’ve left a message for the caretaker to call us, see if he can shed any light on it.”

  “I think we’ll find they’ve all disappeared, boss,” said Reilly.

  Sharp took over. “Edna Hart, real name Zoe Harrison, has a Wharfe apartment on the River Aire. It’s pretty much the same type of place, very upmarket. I’d be surprised if anyone actually knew their neighbour. We did speak to the apartment either side, but they said they’d only spoken to her a couple of times and even then it was only pleasantries. No one knew what car she drove.”

  “And she’s not home, either?”

  “Nope. Neither is Alfie Price, real name Anthony Palmer, who lives in Burley.”

  “Burley?”

  “That’s the address we have,” said Sharp.

  Same village as where the Hunters lived, thought Gardener. Perhaps it might be worth running the name past Roger Hunter. “I know we’ll need warrants to search the places but have you looked through windows, or letter boxes, to see if there is any sign of life?”

  Rawson nodded. “Here’s the big one. We did find the caretaker in Zoe Harrison’s block. After some gentle persuasion he let us have a quick look round. The place appeared to have been cleared, of everything – incriminating or otherwise.”

  “It’s empty?” asked Gardener.

  “Apart from mail piling up on the mat, yes, almost as if she’s moved,” said Sharp. “The only problem is, we have no idea where. There aren’t enough hours in the day at the moment.”

  Gardener nodded. He knew they were right, and he may now need further operational support officers to help with the legwork. What he’d really like was Anderson and Thornton back with him.

  “I feel like we’re back at square one,” said Reilly. “Like we’re in one of those bastard computer games where if you make a mistake you’re transported back to level one so you have to start all over again.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Anthony Palmer?” said Roger Hunter. “Yes, I know of him. Why has he sprung up?”

  Gardener and Reilly had taken the opportunity to leave the office for a while. Their first stop in Burley was a three-bedroom detached bungalow in Manor Park, the home of Anthony Palmer. There was no answer, as expected. But his house wasn’t totally empty from what they could see through the windows. The garage was closed and locked so he couldn’t check on a car. Gardener wondered why his place had not been cleared.

  After a scout around the building they dropped in on Roger Hunter to see if he knew the man who lived so close, and who appeared to be involved in the death of his brother.

  Gardener explained to Roger Hunter what he had been told.

  Roger Hunter stood up. “Please, let me make you a drink and I’ll explain something that might help you considerably.”

  Roger returned with mugs of tea, placed them on a small table in a sparsely decorated living room and took his seat.

  “I can’t believe what’s happening here. How does he come to be involved in the hit and run? He’s family, for God’s sake.”

  “Family?” repeated Reilly.

  Gardener was suddenly reminded of the rule of thumb with a murder inquiry; any suspicious deaths and you always start with the family.

  “My brother and his wife were Anthony’s only real family. He was Ann Marie’s nephew. Anthony’s parents died when he was in his late teens. He has no brothers or sisters.

  “Prior to their death, his parents were music hall entertainers. They travelled all over the UK with a variety of theatre companies. They died tragically when their car was in a collision with a coach on the M62 returning to Leeds from Liverpool.”

  “When was that?” asked Reilly.

  “About fifteen years ago, I think, in December. Anthony was originally born in Leeds but until the time he was six, the family moved around: two years in Bristol, and another two in Milton Keynes before a stint in Liverpool. They moved back to Leeds and found a house in Wellington Hill when Anthony was nine.”

  “So you think he was late teens when his parents died. Can you remember how old?” asked Gardener.

  “Possibly sixteen, maybe a little older.”

  “At that age, did he really need anyone to look after him?” asked Reilly.

  “Because of all the moving around, his parents were the only people he had ever been close to. Anthony prefers his own company. Having said that, although he’s a bit of a loner, he will adapt and fit in if needed. But the only people he relied on were his parents and after they had died, he had no one, until Ann Marie stepped in. This is what beats me. Why and how has he come to be mixed up in all this crap?”

  “We will get an answer for you, Mr Hunter,” said Gardener. “Trust me.”

  “Can you tell us anything more about him, Roger?” Reilly ask
ed.

  “I can but it’s all second-hand. I only met him once or twice, so anything I tell you is what my brother told me.”

  “We’ll settle for that for now,” said Reilly, notebook at the ready.

  “It was David who told me that Anthony is a real oddball,” continued Roger. “Everything in his life has to be in order. He has a routine and does not like to deviate from it. He wakes up at the same time every day, eats at the same time, exercises and showers at the same time. Nothing is left to chance. He does not like chance.

  “All holidays are planned to the last second: when he will go, what he is going to do whilst there, when he will return, and what he will do on his return. Anthony is not a people person. If the circumstances require it, he’ll talk the hind leg off a donkey. But according to David – not Ann Marie – Anthony has a dark side to him.”

  “We can see that,” said Gardener.

  “He has little or no compassion,” said Roger. “He will ruin anyone financially without turning a hair; an attitude that seemed to develop following the death of his parents. But I certainly wouldn’t have thought he would bite the hand that feeds him.”

  “Something must have happened between them all,” said Reilly.

  “But what could be so bad that it would cause this?” asked Roger Hunter.

  “You said just now, that he will ruin anyone financially without turning a hair,” said Gardener, “do you have any evidence to back that up?”

  “I don’t have anything specific I can quote. All I can tell you is that he was very good with computers, but I suspect you know that already. In fact, David reckoned Anthony was better than anyone he had ever seen.”

  Gardener could see now why they were in the dark about the DPA’s activities. If Anthony Palmer – not to mention the rest of them – were as good as they were claiming, Gardener’s team would have a mountain to climb.

  Roger sipped his tea before continuing, all the while with the expression of a haunted man, as if he should have seen what was coming, and the results of Anthony’s actions were a legacy he would rather not face.

  “Anthony’s long-standing ambition had been to start up his own IT company. The death of his parents not only devastated him, it left him bloody penniless, because the money they had set up in a trust fund collapsed due to a loophole in the policy. That was probably his introduction to how life can let you down.”