by C. D. Neill
“Do you practise at the bike track in the woods?”
“Yes, I go there as much as I can. I want to be a professional BMX stuntman when I am older. I can do the Barspin, and an Endo, but I still need to practise on my handlebar rides, I have to stop putting my foot down too early.”
Hammond made a encouraging noise, guessing the Bar-spin and Endo were BMX tricks. He attempted to guide the conversation towards Thomas’s friends. Thomas was now in full stride, he was enjoying impressing a policeman with his skills. He told Hammond that he was involved with a group of boys who were practising for a future Freestyle Competition. He had spent Saturday and Sunday with them, practising in the woods. Hammond was given the names of other boys and wrote them in his notebook. They were older than him, Thomas explained with pride, it wasn’t usual for a less experienced boy to be accepted into such an accomplished group. Hammond was pleased with the information Thomas had offered him. He took out the portrait from his pocket and asked Thomas to have a look at the man in the picture, did he recognise him?
Thomas looked down at the sketch of Graham Roberts, and looked away quickly. Hammond noticed Thomas’ body tense. The boys demeanour had changed.
“Thomas, I need to know if you have seen him in the woods. We have had several witnesses who have told us this man was involved with building the tracks.”
“No, I have never seen him before.”
Hammond thanked Thomas for his help and congratulated the boy on his sporting achievements. Thomas smiled weakly in return. On his way back to the front door, Thomas proudly showed Hammond his bike that was housed in the utility room. It was obviously Thomas’ pride and joy, having been lovingly maintained. Hammond left with a cheery wave to Mrs Taylor, but once she had closed the front door after him, he sighed heavily. He knew Thomas had lied and it disturbed him.
The next hour was spent with Hammond wandering aimlessly in the supermarket aisles. He was agitated to discover that his usual groceries had been moved to accommodate the Christmas specialties. Instead of finding tomato soup, he found luxury cranberry stuffing mix and Swedish ginger thins instead of his favoured chocolate digestives. He eventually resolved to throwing items in his trolley regardless whether he had use for them. Despite finding bare cupboards infuriating when he was hungry, grocery shopping always seemed like a waste of time. It was Hammonds turn to make dinner for himself and Jenny tonight but he couldn’t remember whether Jenny was still a vegetarian or had advanced to vegan. He had to remind himself what vegans could or couldn’t eat and wondered whether it was the same as a coeliac diet. Trying to read ingredient labels listed in tiny print proved futile so he resolved to grabbing anything that resembled a vegetable and joined the queue that lead in a orderly fashion down the frozen food aisle.
By the time he had paid and packed the shopping, it was dark. The temperature had dropped dramatically within the last hour and warned that snow was on its way. The car’s digital display flashed repeatedly with the warning of possible ice and he asked the car what was the point of cautioning him unless it was going to suggest an alternative way of taking him to his door.
He drove homeward bound, thinking of Thomas and his meeting with Beech tomorrow morning. Earlier Hammond had been pleased that the investigation was making such progress but now he was burdened at the thought that his only suspect so far was a twelve year old boy. He turned into his road and was surprised to see that the Camper van he had mocked that morning was parked on his neighbour’s lawn. His usual parking space outside his house had been cordoned off with tape and traffic cones on which a large printed sign was stuck; “Parking Place Reserved for Mr Hugh Jarse.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Detective Superintendent Beech was not in the best of moods and it was evident that Hammond was the cause of his distemper. The newspaper that he had thrown onto the desk in front of Hammond offered an explanation. “Local Man’s Killer On The Loose”. The headline was ridiculous but effective in selling the newspapers, and equally effective in creating panic amongst the small community. Hammond read the front page article with a raised eyebrow, and occasionally scoffed to himself as he read the quotes from local villagers who were apparently concerned they could be the next victims found in the woods. He knew that there would be less interest had the body not have been found so close to Christmas.
“You do realise Wallace, that you have put me in an awkward position?”
Hammond agreed. It was ironic he mused aloud, that he had considered updating the media of their investigation. Beech stood in front of Hammond, looking down at his subordinate with an expression Hammond found difficult to interpret. Eventually Beech sat down in the opposite chair and listened as Hammond debriefed him of the previous days’ activities.
“Why didn’t you take DS Dunn to the boys house with you? She could have gained their trust, possibly more than you did.”
Hammond decided to ignore the question. He knew that Beech would not have understood Hammond’s decision to go alone. Hammond’s original intention the previous evening was to check a potential witness but instead he had left the Taylor’s house having marked Thomas as a plausible suspect. “DS Dunn will be accompanying me later Sir. I am going to check the kids that use the bike tracks, gather any surviving DNA samples and try to find a match it to the nail clipping found on Robert’s clothing. I also want to let Forensics look at the boys’ bikes. However, I haven’t got a motive yet.”
“Of course, there is the possibility that one of the kids witnessed the murder. If you are right about Thomas lying to you, perhaps he denied knowing Roberts through fear of discovery. Have you considered that?”
Hammond shrugged with his hands open on either side of him. “Yes, I have considered that possibility. Either way, I will need him to come in for questioning after checking the others.”
Beech stretched his legs out in front of him, allowing his body to slump further into the seat of the chair. He looked at Hammond for several moments, considering the best course of action.
“Fine. What about the media?”
“First, I do not want it confirmed that this is a possible murder investigation. It’s still possible that the intention was to cause fear to Roberts rather than his death, his attacker may not have realised that Robert’s had a weak heart.”
“Providing you can prove that there is a close temporal relationship between the attack and Robert’s death it is murder, regardless of the perpetrator’s intention, Wallace.”
Hammond ignored Beech’s exclamation that a beaten body was no accident and continued with his reasoning. “We need to get as much information on Roberts as possible. If we release his name, this will help, but we have to be careful. If there is even a sniff that Roberts was once questioned for possible child molestation, we would be opening a can of worms.”
Beech nodded slowly before answering Hammond.
“Or it could provide us with a motive. There may be other kids who have had interest from our victim or Graham Roberts may have family members who can dispel the rumours. Either way, the investigation will benefit by appealing to the public. It’s possible someone saw him travelling either by foot or bus to Saltwood, it would help to know if he was alone. However, I will answer any questions from the press. It has to be said Wallace, it is unlikely we can do a worse job than your earlier attempt.”
Beech left after arranging a time with Hammond for the media briefing. Hammond smiled discreetly to himself as he dipped a chocolate biscuit in his morning coffee, all he would have to do is stand beside Beech looking official. Easy.
Hammond bit off the soggy end of his biscuit, wondering whether to phone his son Paul. He had enjoyed his evening with Jenny and had delighted in her ravenous appreciation of his homemade vegetable lasagne. He had been rather put out when she had rebuked him for using soya milk and cheese, so had questioned her vegetarian preferences. She had responded with her usual shrug and short explanation. “Been there, done that, missed the meat.” He smiled as he though
t of Jenny, there was no doubt that her presence at home made a pleasant change from eating microwave meals alone in front of the television. However, he was concerned. On several occasions he had seen Jenny lost in thought looking miserable. He picked up the phone and punched in Paul’s number with one finger.
“Hey.” Paul answered the phone on the first ring, Hammond was surprised and wondered aloud if perhaps Paul had been looking forward to hearing from him.
“No. I was waiting for a call from someone else.”
Hammond apologised for the disappointment to his son but explained his predicament with Jenny. He still had no idea how long Jenny was going to stay. How could he help her if he didn’t know what was wrong? Paul gave a long sigh at the other end of the telephone. Hammond imagined his son sitting with crossed legs on the sofa, probably still with his shoes on as he usually did despite frequent reprimands for doing so.
“I can’t tell you what is wrong with Jen Dad. I promised her I wouldn’t say anything.”
“Is she in trouble? She’s not pregnant is she? She has been eating a lot.”
Paul’s laughter bounced against Hammond’s eardrum before his retort that pregnancy would be the last of Jenny’s worries. The conversation drifted toward the subject of Paul’s university studies on which he was evasive. Hammond was tempted to ask about Lyn, but knew that Paul’s loyalty toward his mother meant he would not divulge any details. He was proud of his son’s trustworthy attitude. He missed him and told Paul this, suggesting they meet nearer Christmas. Paul promised to keep in contact and hung up reminding his father that he was expecting another call.
Hammond looked at the wall clock and wondered if it was too early to call Kathleen, decided it wasn’t but then replaced the receiver when Tom Edwards walked into the office.”I’m about to go to the Grammar School. You want to come along?”
It was luck that Hammond remembered Thomas had given him names of the Folkestone pupils who shared his interest in BMX. He collected his jacket from where he had hung it on the back of the open door and followed Edwards. He had names, all he had to do was to put faces with them and hope that they would be helpful.
The school was only minutes away and it would have been pleasant to have walked the journey. Despite the icy temperatures the night before, the sun was breaking through the clouds making the morning frost sparkle on the wet grass. Dog walkers were out, their hoods pulled over the heads, hands shoved deep in their pockets, most walking briskly whilst their companions trotted beside them, their tails wagging. For a brief moment Hammond thought of William Barnes and Daisy and wondered if they had returned to the woods since their discovery. He thought it was unlikely and sympathised with the elderly man who obviously enjoyed his ramblings with his four legged friend. That could be me in thirty years time, he thought. No-one to share my life with apart from an animal who loves me just for feeding it.
“So, how shall we do this?” Edwards was leaning back in the seat. He had a remarkable ability to relax wherever he was.
“I took some notes last night. There are some names of pupils that go here, have a look if you like, then you are prepared.” As Hammond stopped the car at the pedestrian crossing, he passed his notebook over to Edwards who started to thumb through the pages.
“Mark Callum? Is he one of the BMX kids?”
“No! It will be a few pages further up.”
Hammond had answered so abruptly, that Edwards stopped turning the pages and looked at Hammond enquiringly. He wanted to ask Hammond if Mark Callum was a potential witness in Saltwood woods, but Hammonds’ red face showed him it wasn’t advisable. So instead Edwards left the notebook on his lap.
Samuel Lawson was a good looking boy with dark blonde hair swept across his forehead in a pop-star style. He was tall and broad shouldered like a swimmer. Hammond thought reflectively, that if he had looked like that at sixteen years of age, he would have spent most of his adolescence looking in the mirror. Samuel Lawson soon made it apparent he felt the same, his eyes kept wandering onto the door reflection behind Edwards as Hammond questioned him.
“How often do you practise in the woods?”
Lawson’s gaze held Hammonds for a second before wandering back to his reflection for another check. “Dunno, most nights after school.”
“Why Saltwood? There are woods in Folkestone.”
This question was asked by Edwards who had pulled himself up to his full height. He felt Lawson should be reminded who was boss in this situation.
“Saltwood is not too close to home nor too far away either, plus, the ground has good rich soil.”
Edwards looked confused, Hammond interjected “Why don’t you want to practise nearer home?”
“I don’t want anyone to see the competition.”
This last comment sounded sarcastic as if Lawson had wanted to include “Dhur!” at the end of his explanation, but he had thought better of it.
“The soil? What has that got to do with it?”
Lawson focused his attention on Edwards whose face flushed.
“If you are going to build a track for BMXing, you need soil that is gritty so it has grip. We couldn’t bring in crushed rock sand so that is important. The good thing about the woods in Saltwood is that it has everything to hand naturally; there are expressive obstacles already so it takes less to make a track. Since most of it is already there, it just needs to be exaggerated. Also, the track has to be regularly maintained.”
It was obvious to Hammond that Lawson was passionate about this subject. Lawson motioned as if he were moulding the track with his hands.
“After a lot of use, there is settlement in the soil so it needs to be regularly re-dusted and compacted. If we used the woods in Folkestone, chances are that there will be too many people traipsing around the tracks, or taking over it. But Saltwood is quieter. As long as we don’t make a nuisance of ourselves people tend to leave us alone.”
Edwards twitched the corners of his mouth at Lawson as if thanking him for such a detailed answer, then he turned to Hammond and rolled his eyes in sarcasm. Hammond took over, he handed Lawson the artist sketch of Graham Roberts.
“We have witnesses who saw you with this man laying flexi-coil under the tracks in summer. I understand you saw him regularly at the woods?
Hammond was bluffing slightly. Lawson had not been identified by a witness. The youth looked at the portrait of Roberts and nodded.
“Yes, I knew him. Well, kind of. He used to follow us around like a kid at school wanting to be invited to play. My mate Danny thought he would like to help us build the drainage system so we asked him..” Samuel Lawson was interrupted by Hammond asking for Danny’s full name. Hammond looked at his notebook then grunted as he found it, Danny Culver had been identified as a regular at the track by Thomas. Hammond nodded at Lawson, asking him to continue giving information on Graham Roberts.
“I saw him regularly, but not to talk to. He was a bit weird to be honest.”
“Weird? In what way?” It occurred to Hammond that maybe Roberts had been simple, not mentally retarded in any way but extraordinarily innocent. It was possible.
“Well, like I said, he would just watch us all the time, or follow us around. Even if we ignored him.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.” Lawson stopped suddenly and looked at the two officers with renewed curiosity.
“Was he murdered? Is that why you are asking all these questions?”
Hammond decided to be honest, it was important that he came across as being mutually cooperative, especially now the press release was about to be updated.
“It looks that way.” He said simply.
“Do you know of anyone who wished Mr Roberts harm, or had cause to do so?”
Samuel Lawson looked surprised by the question, but then his face changed as if he had just thought of something.
“Adam Schaffer. He couldn’t stand him. Used to call him a freak. One time he pissed in a bottle and threw it at him.”
“Where is Adam Schaffer now?”
Lawson laughed, tossing his hair like he was posing for L’Oreal. “You won’t find him here. He left school years ago. Spends most of his time fishing at Hythe Canal.”
Lawson wasn’t able to give more information, he knew Shaffer more as an acquaintance having met the older man near the Castle Inn. Schaffer, he said, wasn’t a BMX enthusiast; more of a getting pissed all the time enthusiast.
The two other boys interviewed by Hammond and Edwards were less helpful. Danny Culver remembered Roberts laying the flexi coil with himself and Samuel Lawson but couldn’t offer any more information. Neither boy had been in the woods at the time questioned, or had anything more to add to Lawson’s account. They did however, know Thomas and described him as “an annoying brat” who wouldn’t leave them alone. Gavin Mason, a spotty thirteen year old, was indignant when Hammond referred to Thomas as being a friend of his.
“He is not my friend! He is so annoying, always showing us his stunts on his bike like we are going to be impressed. He hasn’t even got a real BMX! Just some cheap ATB bike with pegs on the wheels.”
Lois Dunn answered the call on the first ring.
“Dunn, how are you doing?”
Dunn replied that she wasn’t doing too badly. So far, she said, she had been checking Graham Robert’s family records, bank statements and employment history.
Hammond enquired if she was near a computer at the office, she replied that she was. “Can you do a check on an Adam Schaffer, possibly aged between eighteen to early twenties?” She said she would call him back.
Edwards looked at Hammond quietly, watching Hammond unpeel a Satsuma.
“So, dare I ask who Mark Callum is? You seemed a bit hot under the collar earlier when I mentioned his name.”
It was with annoyance that Hammond wanted to tell Edwards to mind his own business, but now, following Kathleen’s news on her Dad’s deteriorating mental health, continuing the investigation into Mark Callum’s death seemed pointless. He repeated to Edwards what he had told Dunn about Lloyd Harris’ request, the investigation into Callum’s death and the lack of information he had gathered so far. Tom Edwards listened. He was keen to know more and kept interrupting Hammond with questions. Eventually, Hammond finished his tale and allowed the sound of Edwards slurping the remnants of his canned drink to fill the silence.
