Case One

by Chris Ould

  Danny Simmons screwed up his face and breathed in audibly as he looked at her timeline.

  “Okay,” he said in the end. “But even if you’re right, so what? That’s what kids do, right? Okay, she’s only fourteen, but unless— Oh.”

  “Yeah,” Holly said. “Unless he’s not a kid.”

  Danny sighed.

  “Bollocks.”

  “I can’t see any other way to explain it,” Holly said. “I think the reason it’s such a big secret is that he’s older – maybe quite a bit ­– which means he’s been committing an offence by having sex with her.”

  Again, Danny sighed. “You came up with this on your own?”

  Holly nodded. “There’s something else too. I think Drew Alford was telling the truth when he said Ashleigh gave him the come-on. I don’t know why she would or what that’s got to do with the secret boyfriend, but…”

  “Let’s just stick to the mystery boyfriend,” Danny said. “You’re thinking if we can get into Ashleigh’s phone we might find out who he is, right?”

  “Yes. He’s bound to have called her, so if we trace the number…”

  Danny shook his head. “I can’t send the phone down to Technical. It costs us to get things examined and I can’t authorise it. DS Woods or the DI would have to decide if they had the budget.”

  “But if it gets us an answer…?”

  “And if it turns out to be some spotty fourteen-year-old boy she was just too embarrassed to talk about…”

  “Do you think it is?”

  Danny didn’t answer immediately, then for the first time he sounded irritable. “You couldn’t have waited till bloody Monday, could you?”

  “I’m off tomorrow.”

  “That’s what I meant.”

  Holly couldn’t tell how much – or even if – this was supposed to be taken as a joke. She took a beat, then she said: “What if we could unlock the phone and look at it without having to get anyone else involved?”

  “How’d we do that?”

  “Hold on,” Holly said and took her own mobile out of her pocket.

  8

  As he strode up the hill towards the edge of the estate Drew Alford fingered the keys in his pocket and thought about the flat in Cloudsley House. For a moment he wondered if he should have been less definite when he’d claimed it was Kaddy Boys turf, but he didn’t harbour the doubt for long. Tommy Vickers was only interested in getting what he needed and Alford knew that if he’d shown any doubt, Vickers would have found someone else for the caretaking job.

  Not that the job in itself was such a big deal. Alford was already making the same money and more from leaning on the estate shops and street dealers who wanted to sell on the Cadogan. No, it was what this new job represented that made it important: he wanted the in with Tommy Vickers, and to get it he knew you had to do the small stuff first; to prove you could deliver and work your way up.

  Of course, none of the others was bright enough to realise that, but that didn’t matter. They’d do what he told them and that was enough. It was just a pity Vickers hadn’t chosen a flat in one of the blocks where Alford or one of the other Kaddys already had a claim. Still, if it had to be Cloudsley, the only person he’d have to bargain with – or put down – was Ry Atkins. There was no one else who could give him a problem.

  At the top of the road Alford was about to turn towards the looming grey block of Penrice House when a sharp whistle cut the air. He looked for its source and saw Ryan Atkins standing with his mates at a corner – it was as if thinking about him had made him appear.

  Ryan didn’t move. He watched Alford half hesitate, then continue his walk up the slope towards them. When Alford took his hand from his pocket Ryan was quick to check it out, but the hand was empty, as if Alford had been making a point.

  “Stay here,” Ryan said without turning his head to look at Dav, Tree or Simm. As he started forward he felt the pressure of a tightly compressed ball of determination in his chest.

  He strode towards Alford and when he was two or three paces away he said, “I’ve been looking for you.” His tone was flat and uncompromising.

  “Yeah? What about?” Alford took one more stride and stopped, flicking a quick glance towards Dav and the others. Despite being outnumbered he showed no sign of concern.

  “My old man’s car,” Ryan said. “Someone chucked a can of paint over it and sprayed your tag on the bonnet.”

  Alford shook his head. “Don’t know nothing about it.”

  “So how come it’s your tag?”

  Alford shook his head again. “Wasn’t me. Why would I?”

  “Cos you’re a twat.”

  Alford stiffened and Ryan’s hands twitched involuntarily, expecting a sudden rush towards him. And in some ways that was what Ryan wanted because it would confirm what he already knew: that Alford was guilty and needed to be put down.

  But instead of losing his temper Alford shook his head for a third time. “Not me,” he said, addressing both accusations. “I’m telling you. I wouldn’t even know what car’s yours.”

  Ryan watched him carefully. There was something about the way Alford stood now – straightforward and upfront – that made Ryan wonder if he’d got it wrong. Despite his previous certainty he knew that if Alford had done the car he wasn’t the type to deny it. More likely to challenge and be done, even if he was alone and in the open.

  As if sensing Ryan’s hesitation Alford shifted and gestured towards the estate. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you anyway,” he said. “I’ve got something – a deal, if you want it.”

  “What sort of deal?”

  “Your lot and mine, going in together.”

  “Huh,” Ryan said dismissively. “Why’d we do that?”

  “Cos,” Alford said. “You know Madder, right? He reckons he could knock out twice what he does now if he sells in your block.”

  “I ain’t stopping him.”

  “Yeah, you are. He’s not gonna go in there if he thinks you’ll do him over. But if you’re in with us he knows he can come and go. He makes more money, we take more for our cut, everyone’s happy. Plus there’s the other stuff. We divvy it all up. You don’t need to do much if you don’t want to.”

  “If we don’t need to do anything, why’d you cut us in?”

  Alford nodded, as if this was a fair point. “You’d have to do something,” he said. “But that’s not what it’s about – listen, I don’t care about them­—” He gestured to Dav and the others. “It’s you, yeah? You’re the same as me.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “No, listen. I mean you know what’s what, right? You don’t take any shit. So I’m saying, if it was you and me working together ’stead of separate…”

  He let the sentence tail off, as if the possibilities were endless, but Ryan was still suspicious.

  “So you give me a split just for hanging out?”

  “I’m saying, there’s stuff we could do, money we could make, if we’re running this fucking place between us. I’ve got contacts, okay? That’s all I’m saying. No bullshit. And if we’ve gotta live on this bleeding estate we might as well get something out of it, right? – Think about it.”

  He held Ryan’s eye for a beat longer, then without waiting for a reply he turned and resumed his stride towards the tower of Penrice House.

  Ryan didn’t try and stop him. He watched Alford until he was a few metres away and then he moved back towards Dav and the others.

  “So what’s he say?” Simmo wanted to know as Ryan nodded for them all to move on.

  “Reckons it wasn’t him.”

  “Fuck off, that’s bollocks. It’s his fucking tag.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Ryan said. He looked up at the ugly concrete blocks that surrounded them and tried to figure out if Drew Alford had really meant what he’d said. And despite his instinctive suspicion, Ryan couldn’t help thinking he just might have been telling the truth.

  9.

  INCIDENT ROOM

  M
ORNINGSTAR RD STATION

  11:03 HRS

  “Just don’t ask,” Danny Simmons said when Oz Sitwell gave him a dubious look. At the desk Sam was taking the back off Ashleigh’s phone and removing the battery.

  It hadn’t been Holly’s plan for Oz to become involved when she’d called Sam and asked him to come to the Incident Room. But Oz had arrived with him and he was clearly intrigued as much as he was wary that this was all a bit dodgy.

  On the other hand Sam seemed to like the fact that his skills were being sought. He peered inside the phone’s battery compartment to read the serial number, then turned to the computer and typed the string of figures into the waiting box on the website he’d found. He hit enter, and after a brief wait the screen changed, displaying a ten-digit code. When he saw it Sam replaced the battery in the phone and switched it on. A few seconds later the start-up screen appeared and Sam keyed in the code from the website.

  “Is that it?” Holly asked. As she said it the phone played the welcome chime.

  “Yep, got it,” Sam said with satisfaction.

  “You sure you haven’t wiped it or anything?” Danny Simmons asked, concerned.

  “No, it’s fine. I just reset the PIN. It’s not protected any more but nothing else has changed.”

  He picked up the phone and then hesitated, unsure who to give it to.

  Danny Simmons took it. “Thanks,” he said.

  “I haven’t seen any of this,” Oz told Danny. “But Hol’s supposed to be in Custody and Staff’s going to wonder where she is.”

  Danny nodded. “I’ll sort it. Ten minutes.”

  Oz still looked doubtful but he was distracted by a call on his PR: “Three-One-Seven from Delta Mike, receiving?”

  “Three-One-Seven, go ahead.”

  “Report of criminal damage, Cadogan Estate. Free to deal?”

  Oz gestured to Sam. “Come on, Bill Gates. Play time’s over.” Then into his radio: “Yes yes.”

  “Thanks,” Holly said to Sam as he made to follow Oz out of the room.

  He grinned. “You owe me,” he said.

  Danny Simmons was now leaning on a desk, scrolling through the address book on Ashleigh’s phone. Holly moved to look over his shoulder. It was immediately obvious that there were fewer contacts listed than she would have expected. Perhaps twenty in all.

  “How many people have you got on your phone?” Danny asked.

  “Dunno, I’ve lost count.” That was true. What was also true – although she didn’t say so – was that since she’d joined the TPO scheme she hardly spoke to any of them any more.

  “More than this, though,” Danny said.

  Holly nodded. “Yeah, but from what Lauren and Taz said, Ashleigh doesn’t have a lot of mates.”

  “Might make it easier to spot the boyfriend on the list then.”

  “There’s a quicker way than that. Have a look at the call log.”

  “Here.” He handed her the phone. “I need more coffee for this.”

  He moved off to the machine in the corner and Holly looked at the phone for a moment, then dropped out of the address book and went to the call history – made and received.

  The last name was Mum – an outgoing call; then Lauren twice – one incoming, one outgoing; then Bic – incoming; Lauren; Shaz; Bic; Lauren; Bic…

  After running down the list Holly skipped out of it and into the text folder. There were half a dozen threads under different names, but one stood out with more than 250 items.

  Holly looked up. “He’s called Bic,” she called across the room.

  “How do you know?” Danny picked up his coffee and headed back.

  “Look – no one else has sent her so many texts, or if they have she hasn’t kept them.”

  She held the phone so he could see the screen. He looked for a moment, then sighed as if he’d just been told he had a week of night duty coming up.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll ask Sergeant Stafford if he can spare you.”

  10.

  CLOUDSLEY HOUSE

  CADOGAN ESTATE

  11:24 HRS

  “Looks like they chucked it from here,” Oz said, miming a throwing motion towards the paint-covered Fiesta.

  “It says it’s gloss on the tin,” Sam said, holding the paint can up by the handle and keeping it well away from his uniform.

  “No chance of getting it off then, not without sanding it back. Probably cost more than the car’s worth.”

  “What about the tag?” Sam asked, lowering the paint can carefully into the evidence bag.

  Oz nodded and moved round to look at it again. “Yeah,” he said. “No prizes for that.”

  Sam glanced away to where Leyton Atkins was talking to a couple of men who’d come out of the ground-floor flats to watch the proceedings. His smart Sunday suit, and that of his younger son, Charlie, set him apart from the other men’s jeans and sweatshirts.

  “Do you think it could be connected with Charlie getting assaulted yesterday?” Sam asked. “I mean, if that was Tyler Smith and he’s one of the Kaddy Boys and that’s their tag…”

  Oz nodded. “I’d give you odds,” he said. “Course, the one who’ll really know is Ryan – not that he’s going to tell us.”

  He gestured to where Ryan Atkins was watching them with three other youths. They were all keeping their distance.

  “So what do we do?” Sam asked.

  “Go through the motions,” Oz said, then turned and called out: “Mr Atkins?”

  Leyton Atkins looked over, then disengaged himself from the other men and crossed towards the two officers. Charlie followed him.

  “Have you found anything?” Mr Atkins asked as he approached.

  Oz shook his head regretfully. “At a guess I’d say it happened last night – probably late on when there was less chance of anyone seeing them.”

  “What about catching them? Can you get fingerprints or anything like that?”

  “There might be something on the paint can,” Oz said. “We’ll take it in and see if Forensics can get something, but I wouldn’t be too optimistic. The fact they dropped it here probably means they knew they hadn’t left any prints.”

  He shifted a little and indicated the bonnet of the car. “Do you know about this tag – KB?”

  “No, I don’t know what it means,” Mr Atkins said.

  “Well, round here it usually stands for Kaddy Boys,” Oz said. “They’re a local gang and the tag’s their way of marking territory.”

  “So if you know who they are…”

  “You can’t prove it from that, Dad,” Ryan Atkins said. He’d moved closer to hear what was being said. “Anyone can do a tag.”

  Oz nodded. “Ryan’s right,” he said. “But the thing is, to me it looks like they targeted your car in particular rather than any of the others. Do you know of any reason why they’d do that?”

  “You mean why they’d pick on my car?” Mr Atkins asked. “No. There’s no reason. I’ve always parked it here, for years.”

  “There’s no reason they’d have a grudge against you?” Oz looked at Charlie. “What about the incident yesterday? Do you think this might be connected?”

  “I— I don’t know,” Charlie said, glancing at Ryan.

  “Ryan, what do you think? Do you know any of the Kaddy Boys?”

  “Yeah, right,” Ryan said. “I know them from church.”

  “Ryan…” his father started, but Ryan suddenly seemed to have had enough.

  “Look, what’s the point?” he said. “They’re not gonna catch anyone. They’re just going to fill in a few forms and forget it. It’s a waste of time. The car was clapped-out anyway. I don’t know why we’ve still got it.”

  “Hey! You listen,” Mr Atkins said, his voice hardening. “Me and your mother saved for more than a year to buy that car, God rest her. You think I earn enough to just go out and buy another one? You think I don’t have enough expenses already? Where’s your sense, boy?”

  “Where’s yours?” Ryan
snapped back, and he spun on his heel and strode back to his mates.

  Behind him Mr Atkins looked stunned, as if Ryan had never spoken back to him quite so forcefully before. But it was Charlie’s reaction that caught Sam’s attention. The younger boy’s face showed both upset and worry, as if everything that had just happened had simply added to a heavy load already on his shoulders.

  Sam glanced at Oz and saw that he, too, was watching the boy and might have been thinking the same thing. The PC didn’t comment on it though – just handed Sam the incident forms.

  “Okay, Mr Atkins,” Oz said. “If you’ll give TPO Marsden your details, then I’ll give you an incident number so you can contact your insurers with a claim.”

  11.

  INCIDENT ROOM

  MORNINGSTAR RD STATION

  11:43 HRS

  “Bic’s phone is a pay-as-you-go, first registered on October 23rd last year,” Danny Simmons said, hanging up the phone. “No way to trace who bought it.”

  He moved across to where Holly was studying the texts on Ashleigh’s phone.

  “Listen to these,” she said. “They’re from him to Ashleigh: U R beautiful… Babe, I love what we do. I want it to go on for ever… Can’t wait to see you… I love you so much.”

  “He’s a real poet,” Danny said dryly.

  “They’re all pretty short, but a lot of hers to him are longer. Some of them are a bit – you know – ­explicit.”

  “Yeah? Well just don’t read them out to me then.” He sipped his coffee, then he said: “It doesn’t prove anything though. Bic could still be a spotty fourteen year old.”

  “I don’t think so,” Holly said. “They don’t sound right for a teenager. Babe, I love what we do. I want it to go on for ever? Nah… There might be a way to find out for sure though.”

  “If you mean tracking down his phone, it won’t work – at least, not accurately enough – that’s only in the movies.”

  “No. Look, here.” She scrolled back through the texts. “This was from Thursday. Bic sends Ashleigh a text: Romsey Road? 6 o’clock. And she replies Yes! – So if that’s where they met maybe there’s something on CCTV. We could check, couldn’t we?”