Doors Without Numbers

by C. D. Neill

  Hammond awoke at five feeling hungry, his headache had gone leaving his neck and shoulders tender. He rummaged through his groceries trying to find something that looked appetising before deciding he would walk over to the hotel restaurant. The waitress was a young woman whose ponytail swung like a pendulum as she walked towards him with the menu. He ordered the Mushroom risotto and allowed himself to view the other diners, realising he was the only single one there. He wished he had sat by the window, at least he could observe activity without seeming to be a voyeur.

  His mobile rang and he answered it quickly, aware that the noise had disturbed the couple at the next table, he offered an apologetic smile in response to the elderly man’s scowl.

  “I can’t believe you’re being kept away.” Dunn’s voice was sympathetic which was unnecessary. He understood why Beech had decided it was for the best, although he had no intention of abiding by the decision. He said so, becoming aware that the waitress had returned with his meal. He declined her offer of black pepper with a shake of his hand and waited for her to leave the table before resuming his conversation with Dunn.

  “We are making progress here, but...I want to see you if that’s ok. I think I have found something but I don’t want to run it by Morris until I’m sure.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Rachel Turner, the social worker; I think I have sussed out why she was so protective over her case papers.”

  Hammond took in a forkful of risotto realising too late that it was hotter than he expected; he blew over his scalded tongue, and took a gulp of his cola before answering.

  “You’ll have to come here; I can’t be at the station until I am deemed innocent.”

  Dunn pretended not to hear the sarcasm in his tone. She agreed to visit him within the hour. He ended the call and allowed himself to smile with optimism. He knew his faith in Dunn wasn’t misplaced. Her imaginative approach may not be appreciated by those who preferred the methodical and exacting methods of deduction, but if anyone was going to make improbable or even peculiar connections in a case, it would be her. Dunn arrived on time but Hammond was surprised she was accompanied by Galvin, who looked flushed as if he had rushed there. Without any word of greeting, Galvin sprang over to the chairs where Hammond was waiting in the Hotel lobby and thrust some papers onto Hammond’s lap like a child showing his parents an award he’d earned from school. Taken aback by his younger colleague’s apparent enthusiasm, Hammond looked down at Galvin’s offering. The pages he now held were still photographs taken from a bus’ security camera. He recognised a profile view of himself standing beside the driver as he accepted his bus ticket. The next image showed Hammond about to exit the bus, and another with a man standing behind him. The man was balding with a heavy build. It was difficult to tell his age as the camera was positioned so that it looked down towards the door of the bus but Hammond recognised him. It had been the man Galvin had pictured in the e-fit, the one who had watched Hammond’s house on the night Cheryl Bailey was killed, the same man who had stood watching Hammond’s house smouldering with an expression of pride. Hammond looked up at Galvin who was still standing before him, practically hopping from one foot to another in his excitement.

  “Wait, there’s more..” Galvin helped himself to the pages on Hammond’s lap and pulled out the last few from the bottom of the pile.

  “This was taken from the Oak restaurant in Charing, the camera is positioned by the kitchen exit, so you can’t see much but if you look to the far left, you can just about make out your car in the car park.”

  Hammond followed Galvin’s direction. He couldn’t see what Galvin was so excited about, he recognised his car as he had left it the night he had dined with Kathleen. It was the only car in the car park. He looked up enquiring at Galvin.

  “What is there to see?”

  Galvin leaned over Hammond. “Look carefully, in the back window of your car, you can just about make out a reflection.”

  Hammond looked closer, he could see what Galvin meant, there was a definite image of another car, parked behind his own, away from the camera.

  “Explain to me what it is you’re trying to tell me, Galvin.”

  Galvin sat down on the arm of Hammond’s chair and continued to poke at the images he was holding in front of Hammond’s chest.

  “It took them a while, but they were able to maximise the image, it is blurry but you can make out some of the registration and also the silhouette of the driver, it’s the same guy.”

  Hammond concentrated his gaze so much, he was now squinting, His eyesight wasn’t as good as the younger constable’s, but he could just about make out the image now he had some direction. “Question is Galvin, who is he?”

  Galvin practically clapped his hands together with glee at his own ingenuity. “I looked at the media footage of the fire again, and for a split second, he held onto the plastic tape that was used to cordon your house off. I managed to get the tape and get fingerprints off it. You’d be surprised how many fingerprints were all over it despite our guys wearing gloves...”

  Hammond interrupted. “Get on with it Galvin, you got fingerprints?”

  “Almost, a partial thumb print that was matched on the database.”

  “Did it match any prints taken from my house?”

  Noting the negative response, Hammond shuffled his weight forward on his chair, he was aware that Galvin was enjoying his moment of revelation. For a second he was reminded of Poirot addressing a room of suspects about to point the finger at the guilty suspect.

  “The thumb print belonged to a Bradley Kelsey.”

  Hammond pondered for several moments, the name was familiar but he couldn’t place it. He shook his head hesitantly, slightly disappointed that the name didn’t mean anything to him. He looked at Dunn, hoping she could help to clarify his confusion. She had sat quietly beside him throughout Galvin’s presentation, but now, having Hammond’s attention, she spoke up.

  “The name is significant to the case you were working on. Rachel Turner’s diary mentioned a Brad having been involved with the care of adopted children, she was about to write a report on him, complaining that he was an unsuitable warden.”

  “You’ve presented this to Morris?” Hammond was aware that the information they had gathered was lacking in evidence, so far it was all circumstantial.

  “We’re going to the briefing later this evening, but like I said, I’ve got an idea that I wanted to consult you first.”

  Hammond held up a hand. “Hang on, this could be important. Morris is the senior investigator on this case now, not me. He needs to know. If Brad is responsible for cutting my car’s calliper bolts, there could be evidence on the wreckage, in which case that could be enough evidence to bring him in for questioning but otherwise all you have is a man who was photographed following me on a bus and then is seen outside my burning house. That’s not evidence of arson, neither is it evidence of him killing Cheryl Bailey, you only have him being near the scene of the crime committed earlier in the day. So far, you have no motive and more importantly, no evidence. It’s not enough.”

  Dunn eye’s focused on Hammond. “But, it’s a start. We’ve got a few hours, then we’ll present what we have, but what is the harm in looking at what we have in the meantime? You should be aware that Morris is investigating you, your ex-wife and Jenny, he will be less interested in anything I have to give him until you three have been cleared.”

  Hammond looked at Dunn surprised. “Jenny? But she has nothing to do with this! She’s a witness, that’s all!”

  Dunn shrugged. “If it was the other way round, you would investigate her yourself.”

  Hammond knew she was right, so he released the thought temporarily and allowed himself to focus on the information to hand. He looked at Dunn as she leant forward, her body bridging the gap between the chairs they were sitting on.

  “Rachel Turner’s diary mentions a family with the names Dean. I think she was researching Lucas Dean. So I looke
d into it, he was born in August 1970 in Bexley Hospital, which is strange because it was a psychiatric hospital and therefore did not have a maternity ward. The hospital isn’t there anymore but some records exist...”

  Hammond watched her as she spoke, her tone was calm but contradicted the enthusiasm shown in her stare as she shared the information she had gathered.

  “It was confirmed that a baby boy was born 24th August 1970 to a Raquel Burchett, aged seventeen. I looked into the Deed poll archives but it doesn’t seem as if the name change was enrolled so it wasn’t included on any central register.”

  Dunn stopped and looked at Hammond whose blank expression showed he couldn’t see the significance of what she was telling him.

  “Don’t you see? Rachel Turner was Lucus Dean’s mother! Her husband said that she had given a baby up for adoption when she was seventeen. She probably changed her name to Rachel instead of Raquel before they married. She became a social worker, maybe she was trying to find her son and when she did, she not only discovered that the adopted mother had become a drug addict and that the child was put into care, but also his foster carers were unsuitable, hence her writing a report on this Brad guy.”

  Whilst Dunn had been talking, Hammond had restrained himself from interrupting. Dunn’s theories were plausible, but again, they couldn’t be proved and he knew that it was unlikely any evidence could be provided to support her claims. Instead, he nodded encouragingly.

  “I guess it’s possible. We’ve presumed that she gave up her son for adoption by choice, but maybe it wasn’t. If she were in a psychiatric hospital, it’s probable she was considered mentally unfit to take parental responsibility so the baby was taken from her by Social Services, in which case she would have been unable to trace the child.”

  Dunn was biting her lower lip, a sure sign she was deep in thought. “So the only way of finding her son was to become a social worker herself. It explains the change of name. Rachel’s husband said that she had a sense of shame about being pregnant at seventeen, but maybe the shame was from having her child taken from her.”

  Hammond scanned his memory. Rachel Turner’s husband had been co-operative but it was possible he had known about the circumstances of the adoption. Dunn’s instinct had told her he had known more than he let on, it was possible he had known about the circumstances behind the adoption of Rachel’s child. He shifted in his seat as he weighed up the options and asked her what she intended to do with her findings.

  Dunn looked at him surprised. “We find the autopsy report on Lucas Dean, compare any samples with samples taken from Rachel Turner’s house..” Her eyes were widened with surprise at Hammond’s lack of enthusiasm.

  “We can’t do that Dunn; there is not enough reason to do so. Lucas Dean’s parentage isn’t relevant to the investigation, although I agree that it does provide us with a link. It could also explain Rachel Turner’s disappearance if she had confronted Bradley, he could have tried to scare her into submission hence her injuries before she went missing or he is the person seen with her on the hotel security footage that her husband told us about. But, we can’t prove this. The best we can do is find this Brad guy and take it from there.”

  Dunn sighed and leaned back into her chair. She looked at Galvin and then Hammond before lifting a shoulder in resignation. “So, you want me to give this to Morris?”

  Hammond nodded. “I can’t be the one who gives the orders Dunn, I probably shouldn’t even be talking to you about this but I have to admit, it is beginning to make sense...” Hammond stopped short, his memory was ignited suddenly. “What was the name again? Brad what?”

  Dunn looked at him blankly “Kelsey.”

  Hammond slapped his hand down on his knee and swore so loudly that the hotel receptionist looked across in astonishment.

  “Dammit! Kelsey is the name of the guy who found Mark Callum’s body! That explains the missing pen and paper!”

  Dunn and Galvin looked at one another perplexed. They had no idea what Hammond was talking about. They watched as Hammond struggled to his feet from the chair and made a hasty exit towards Galvin’s car.

  “The sun, the moon and the stars would have disappeared long ago, had they happened to be within reach of predatory human hands.”

  Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Bradley Kelsey’s details had been on the database since ten years previously when he had been arrested and charged for assaulting a police officer during a drugs raid at a party he had attended. Galvin was happy to give these details to Hammond but Hammond was not so keen to receive them, he kept interrupting with a barrage of self abuse. He was angry at his own stupidity not to check out a witness. Dunn offered the reassurance that the officers investigating Mark Callum’s death hadn’t either, and even if they had, there would be no reason to have investigated him as a potential murderer but Hammond wasn’t listening. He knew that he had accepted Harris’ challenge half-heartedly. Had he been more willing to believe Harris had reason to be suspicious of the suicides he would have been more thorough.

  The car swerved sharply as Galvin miscalculated a corner and Hammond swore loudly. He felt the nervous tension in his body increasing as he anticipated his meeting with Morris. Hammond’s contribution had been refused already but this time, he wasn’t going to sit back and let the investigation continue without him. If the team were going to busy themselves investigating his finances and his relationship with Jenny, then their time would be wasted. There was a sense of urgency that stirred within him, He wanted Bradley Kelsey to be found quickly.

  Morris looked at Hammond obligingly which was better than Hammond had hoped for.

  “This is the best lead we’ve got so far.” Hammond said.

  “But you haven’t given me anything, we are no further along in the investigation than we were the last time we met, all the material we’ve got and still we have reached no conclusions. Even if you bring in Kelsey for questioning, we are going to have a snowball’s chance in hell of proving he was directly or indirectly involved with Cheryl’s murder ,the arson attack on your home or the body found inside. We’ve got a distorted photo image of him parked behind your car, video footage of him outside your house after the fire and on a bus the same time as yourself. It’s odd, it’s coincidence, but all it gives us is a link to scenes of crimes. It doesn’t count as concrete evidence of his involvement in criminal activity.”

  “He found Mark Callum’s body. I became a target as soon as I started looking into Callum’s death, there has to be a connection! Let’s question him. See how he copes under stress, he can’t be sure that he didn’t leave any trace evidence at my house or on the car and then see where it takes us. We can arrange an i.d line up, if the kids recognise him as the man who asked them to eavesdrop on my conversation with Cheryl Bailey, it will be enough to keep him a little while. I’m sure we are on the right track. If we show we have reason to suspect him, it may be enough to convince him that we know more than we are letting on.”

  Morris studied Hammond for a minute then shrugged with resignation. “I think we should stick with splitting the team and look from different angles. I don’t even know for sure which incident should take precedence. Cheryl Bailey’s murder has to be treated as an unrelated crime to the body found in your house, we have a link but it isn’t strong enough to treat it as a related case.”

  Hammond tried to keep his impatience under wraps. “There isn’t enough time or resources. If they are connected, and Kelsey’s involvement suggests there is, we don’t know who else may be a possible victim here, there has already been two attempted murders as well as the death of three innocents, it is now looking as if Kelsey is more involved in the suicide of Mark Callum, there could be more deaths to come. What other angle is there? We have some evidence that Kelsey is linked between all incidents.”

  Morris was quick to correct Hammond. “He’s not the only link.”

  Hammond ignored the impli
cation, instead he waited for Morris to see sense. Eventually Morris sighed heavily. “Fine. I want a background search on Kelsey, and I want to see what the others can give me tonight. We’ll question him in the morning. Against my better judgement I will allow you to stick around, if he sees you alive and well despite his attempts to harm you, he may react strongly enough to implicate himself.”

  The unmarked car with Morris and Edwards inside was parked on the other side of the street from Kelsey’s apartment block. Hammond settled into the back passenger seat, breathing in the welcoming smell of bacon and coffee that lingered from their takeaway breakfast. He thought of all the hours he had spent in cars like this one, surviving the monotony of surveillance through the relief of takeaways and chewing gum. They exchanged greetings before Edwards turned to face him from the front passenger seat.

  “He returned from work about ninety minutes ago. He went inside for a while but then re-emerged and walked around the block, before heading down London Road.”

  “When did he return?”

  Morris replied from the driver’s seat, his face still turned upwards towards the windows of the flat they were surveying.

  “Just before you turned up. There’s been no movement since, it’s probably best to go in soon before he makes a move again.”

  “Did you learn anything useful last night?” Hammond asked with an air of innocence. Inwardly he doubted whether the wait had been fruitful. If the man had been confident enough to break into the home of a police officer twice in daylight, it was likely he believed there was nothing on him to raise suspicion.

  Edwards looked at Morris as if waiting for permission to speak but turned back to Hammond when no response had been granted. “Nothing dodgy. Not married, no kids. He has lived here for the last twelve years. No criminal record other than hitting a uniformed officer at a party. The party’s host was growing Cannabis plants in his loft. Kelsey wasn’t part of it, just took offence to the police interrupting a good time.”