Dead Lock (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series Book 8)

by Damien Boyd

  Dixon looked up at Old School House as he switched the engine off. Only one light was on downstairs, the curtains closed; the upstairs dark. Poland was waiting up for him, but hopefully the rest of his family were asleep. This was not a conversation they needed to hear. Not yet.

  The front door opened as Dixon walked up the steps to reveal Poland, unshaven and with bloodshot eyes, leaning on the frame, a bottle of Scotch in one hand and a half-empty glass in the other.

  ‘Where is everybody?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘Gone to bed.’

  ‘How much of that stuff have you had?’

  ‘This is my first,’ replied Poland, closing the door behind Dixon. ‘You said there’d been some developments?’

  ‘Adele doesn’t need to hear this yet, Roger, all right?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘May I?’ Dixon gestured to the bottle of Scotch in Poland’s hand.

  ‘Er, yes, of course.’

  ‘We’ve found Alesha.’

  ‘But not Hatty?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Poland was standing in front of the sideboard, pouring a glass of Scotch. ‘Where?’ he asked, turning around and handing a glass to Dixon.

  ‘In a canal boat under the M5.’

  ‘Is she all right?’

  Dixon nodded. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Who found her?’

  ‘I did.’

  Poland forced a smile. ‘And who’d taken her?’

  ‘We don’t know yet, but her grandmother was looking after her.’

  ‘Her grandmother?’

  ‘She’d been paid, Roger. We think it was done to make it look like Hatty’s kidnapping was random.’

  ‘But, it isn’t?’

  ‘No.’ Dixon shook his head. ‘Poland’s going to suffer was the phrase used.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  ‘This is my fault?’ Poland leaned forwards over the sideboard, the empty decanters rattling as he steadied himself. ‘Oh God, Hatty.’

  ‘Has anyone been in touch with you?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘A ransom demand, you mean?’

  ‘Or a threat.’

  ‘I’d have told you if they had.’

  ‘Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against you?’

  Poland sighed. ‘There have been a couple over the years, I suppose. I’d need access to my records to give you the details.’

  ‘Tell me about them.’

  ‘There was a husband who’d murdered his wife. Thought he’d got away with it, too, until I examined her. This is going back twenty years to when I was in Birmingham, longer probably. Malcolm Muir, his name was. You don’t think he’s been released from prison, do you?’

  ‘We’ll check.’ Dixon took a swig of Scotch. ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘Barnard. It was a hit and run. A boy was killed and the driver was charged with causing death by dangerous driving. This must be eight years ago now.’ Poland grimaced. ‘I was asked to do a second post mortem by the defence – it was before I was Home Office pathologist. Anyway, a congenital heart defect caused the death, so the CPS accepted a plea of driving without due care and attention and the driver walked out of court with a few points and fine. The father was furious. Threatened all sorts. I needed a police escort to get out of the court building.’

  ‘Where did they live?’

  ‘Burnham. The accident was out on the Berrow Road by the old putting green. Names and addresses will be on the file at the hospital, but you’ve still got my car, remember?’

  ‘It’s still in the visitors’ car park at Express Park.’ Dixon thrust his hand into his coat pocket and took out a key. ‘Sorry, Roger.’

  ‘I haven’t needed it. You’ll need to give me a lift over there, though.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘My granddaughter’s been kidnapped and it looks like it’s my fault.’ Poland shrugged his shoulders. ‘Of course now.’

  ‘Tell me about the accident,’ said Dixon, unlocking his Land Rover.

  ‘The boy was on his bike on the zebra crossing there. The car was speeding and didn’t stop. Simple, really.’

  Dixon frowned. ‘How old was the boy?’

  ‘Ten.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘We’ve got a visitor,’ said Jane, as Dixon opened the back door of the cottage. He let Monty out into the yard and watched him in the lights from the kitchen window.

  ‘Who?’ he asked.

  ‘Lucy. She’s asleep in the spare room. Hitch-hiked down here, would you believe it.’

  ‘Do her foster parents know?’

  ‘We rang them. Dave’s coming down on Sunday to pick her up.’

  Dixon sighed. ‘I need some sleep.’

  ‘How did you get on with Sonia?’

  ‘She was paid. Whoever it is has a grudge against Roger, it looks like. She was told “Poland’s going to suffer”.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘Not good. He’s down at Musgrove Park now, going back through his records to see what he can find.’ Dixon opened the fridge and took out a can of lager. ‘There are a couple of possibles we’re looking into already: a bloke whose son was killed in a hit and run and a man convicted of murder thanks to Roger’s evidence. Looks like he’s been released on parole within the last six months.’

  ‘What did Alesha have to say?’

  ‘I haven’t watched the tape yet,’ replied Dixon, closing the back door behind Monty. ‘It’ll have to wait until the morning.’

  ‘D’you mind Lucy being here?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Dixon frowned. ‘Why would I? It’s your home and she’s your sister.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You don’t have to thank me.’ Dixon leaned back against the sink and took a swig from the can.

  ‘Anyway, it’s given us a chance to have a proper talk. She’s a good kid, really. I think I’ve even persuaded her to go back and sit her exams.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Bribery,’ replied Jane. ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘Not for a while.’

  ‘How’s your blood sugar?’

  ‘It feels all right. I’ll check it in a minute.’

  ‘I don’t know what she’s going to do all day,’ said Jane, shaking her head. ‘We’re both busy and—’

  ‘She’s welcome to watch any of my DVDs.’

  ‘I’ll be sure to let her know,’ muttered Jane.

  A spare door key, twenty quid and a note telling her to stay out of trouble. It had been the best they could do.

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ said Dixon, as they waited for the steel gates at the entrance to the staff car park to open. ‘She probably won’t wake up until midday. You know what teenagers are like.’

  ‘I’ll ring her a bit later and find out what she’s up to.’

  ‘She’ll go into town and push it all in the fruit machines, I expect.’

  ‘What’s first?’ asked Jane.

  ‘I want to see where we’ve got to with Roger and watch Alesha’s interview.’

  ‘Roger’s here.’ Jane was looking over her shoulder at the visitors’ car park in front of the police centre.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Seven.’

  ‘He probably came straight here from the hospital.’

  Dixon parked on the top floor of the car park. ‘We’ll try the canteen first,’ he said, as they walked along the landing.

  Poland was sitting in the corner, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, a cold cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

  ‘I’ll get him another,’ said Dixon. ‘D’you want one?’

  ‘Better had,’ said Jane, pulling a chair out from the under the table.

  Poland woke up with a start.

  ‘What time did you get here, Roger?’

  ‘Six,’ he replied, through a yawn.

  ‘Here,’ said Dixon, handing him a mug of coffee. ‘That one’s stone cold.’

  ‘Thanks.’
<
br />   ‘Did you come up with anyone else?’

  ‘Just one. I gave the details to Deborah Potter. Ken Mitchell. He tried to claim a shotgun went off by accident when his wife was cleaning it, but it was a suicide, pure and simple. She put the gun in her mouth. Anyway, her life insurance policy was less than twelve months old so the insurers refused to pay. There’d also been non-disclosure of mental health issues. Of course, it was all my fault as far as he was concerned.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘The address I had on file is nine years old, but Potter’s tracing him now.’

  ‘And there’s no one else?’

  Poland shook his head.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Dixon ran along the landing and up the stairs.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ said Potter.

  ‘How are we doing?’

  ‘Muir is in custody in Birmingham and the local lot are checking his alibi now.’

  ‘And Barnard?’

  ‘We picked him up . . .’ Potter checked her watch. ‘Twenty minutes ago. And we’ve tracked Mitchell down to an address in Yeovil. Someone will be knocking on his door right about now.’

  Dixon nodded.

  ‘What about Savage?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing yet.’

  Jane appeared at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Where’s Roger?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘He’s gone home to shower and change. Then he’s going back to Catcott. He said he’s not going to tell them what’s going on yet.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘I think he’s hoping you’d do it.’ Jane raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I don’t blame him,’ muttered Potter. ‘Where are you going now?’ she asked when Dixon headed for the stairs.

  ‘To watch Alesha’s interview.’

  ‘I can tell you what she said.’

  ‘I’d like to see it for myself, Ma’am,’ said Dixon. ‘If you don’t mind.’

  ‘Hello, Alesha, I’m Trish and this is Jenny.’

  Alesha smiled.

  ‘What’s your favourite TV programme?’ asked Trish.

  ‘The Walking Dead.’

  Dixon winced. Maybe he’d read the transcript instead. He leaned forward, pressed ‘pause’ and shook his head.

  The Walking Dead. At your age?

  The child interview suite was at the contact centre in Bridgwater. Purpose built, with posters on the walls and boxes of toys on the floor. A large red sofa with Alesha and Ryan sitting together was the focus of two of the cameras. Trish and Jenny were sitting opposite on another sofa, dressed casually – they looked more like children’s TV presenters than police officers, but then that was the idea.

  Dixon pressed ‘Play’ then started flicking through the transcript on the desk in front of him with the interview playing on the computer monitor.

  ‘Aren’t you a bit young for that?’ continued Trish.

  ‘It’s just a bit of fun,’ replied Alesha. ‘It’s not real.’

  Dixon reached for the mouse and scrolled forward to twenty-one minutes eight seconds.

  ‘Whose idea was it?’ The camera was on Alesha, but Jenny asked the question this time, according to the transcript.

  ‘My nan’s. She’d worked it all out with Jeff.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘She said all I had to do was sit in the canal boat for a few days. I could watch what I wanted on the TV and she’d bring me food and sweets and stuff.’

  ‘You weren’t scared?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a spooky place at night, down there under the M5, isn’t it?’

  Alesha grinned. ‘Nah, I just locked myself in and listened to music on my headphones.’

  ‘Did she promise you anything for helping her?’

  ‘An iPhone 7.’

  ‘Why were you doing it? What was it all about?’

  ‘Nan said it would shock my mother into stopping the drugs, or getting help anyway. If she thought I was missing. She’s going to die if we don’t do something.’

  ‘Who said that?’

  ‘Nan.’

  Tears were rolling down Alesha’s cheeks now.

  ‘D’you want to take a break?’ asked Trish.

  ‘No, I’m fine.’

  ‘Did you see anyone else when you were on the boat?’ Jenny again.

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, you were doing it to help your mum?’

  Alesha nodded.

  ‘And how long was it to go on for? How long did you have to be there?’

  ‘Until my nan came for me. She said it would be a few days. Just till my mum came to her senses, she said.’

  ‘Didn’t you think it might scare your mummy?’

  ‘That was the idea.’

  ‘And what about the police? Did your nan tell you we were out looking for you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And hundreds of local people?’

  Alesha shook her head.

  ‘Your mummy and daddy have even been on the telly. Did you see it?’

  ‘I could only watch DVDs. There’s no aerial.’

  ‘What did your nan tell you to say if the police found you?’

  ‘Just that Poland has a lot to answer for and is going to suffer.’

  ‘Do you know what that means?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why did she tell you to say that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Dixon pressed ‘Stop’ and closed the transcript on the keyboard in front of him.

  ‘Seen enough?’ asked Jane standing behind him.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mitchell has arrived from Yeovil, but it’s looking like Muir’s alibi is good. They’re double checking it, but the Birmingham lot may have to release him.’

  ‘That just leaves Barnard and Mitchell then.’ Dixon switched off the computer and stood up. ‘C’mon, we’ve got time to get over to Catcott and back before the interviews.’

  ‘You’d better come in.’ Geraldine stepped back, allowing Dixon and Jane into Old School House.

  ‘Is Roger here?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘He’s told us it’s all his fault. I told him what would happen when he took on the Home Office work.’ Geraldine slammed the front door behind them. ‘Karen had to nip back to Bridgwater. She said she’d be back in half an hour.’ She sneered. ‘That was over an hour ago.’

  Poland was sitting on the sofa with his back to them when Dixon and Jane walked into the living room. ‘If something’s happened to Hatty, I’ll never forgive myself,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Dad,’ snapped Adele. ‘I don’t care what Mum says; it’s not your fault.’ She was pacing up and down in front of the open French windows, dragging on a cigarette. She inhaled the smoke and held it in, before blowing it out through her nose.

  ‘There have been some developments,’ said Dixon.

  ‘About bloody time,’ Jeremy sneered and looked away.

  ‘You’ll have to forgive them, Inspector,’ said Ros. She was sitting at the dining table, under the galleried landing. ‘Things are getting a bit fraught.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Jeremy turned to Dixon. ‘What developments then?’

  ‘We’ve identified three individuals who may have a grudge against your father-in-law, Sir,’ replied Dixon. ‘All three of them are being spoken to and their whereabouts checked.’

  ‘Spoken to?’ Adele threw her cigarette out of the open window into the flower bed.

  ‘Two are at Express Park and I’ll be interviewing them when I’ve finished here.’

  ‘And the third?’

  ‘He’s in Birmingham.’

  ‘Are they under arrest?’ asked Geraldine.

  ‘They’re cooperating with us at the moment, so there’s been no need to arrest them yet.’

  ‘No need?’ Jeremy jumped up from the armchair, walked over and put his arm around Adele. She wriggled free and sat down on the sofa next to Poland.

  ‘It’
s all right, Dad,’ she said. ‘It’ll be all right.’

  ‘Bloody typical,’ mumbled Geraldine. She walked into the kitchen behind Dixon and switched on the kettle.

  ‘Who are these people?’ asked Adele, looking at Dixon over her shoulder.

  ‘I’m afraid I know no more than Roger’s probably already told you, but we have teams of officers looking at all three of them now. We’ll be tracking their mobile phones, cars, bank accounts, following up their friends and associates, checking at their places of work. No stone will be left unturned.’

  ‘We get it.’ Jeremy stepped out into the garden.

  ‘There’s a huge team on this and we will find—’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ interrupted Adele. ‘You won’t find her.’ She stood up and lit another cigarette.

  ‘D’you really have to smoke those filthy things?’ Geraldine’s shrill voice screeched from the kitchen behind Dixon. ‘They’ll kill you one day.’

  ‘D’you think I care about that now?’ Adele stepped out into the garden and stood beside Jeremy, staring at the daffodils and cigarette butts.

  Jeremy looked at her, shook his head and then turned back to the daffodils.

  This time she dropped her cigarette on the floor, stubbed it out with her toe and then kicked it into the flower bed. She glanced at Jeremy and whispered something through gritted teeth. Dixon frowned. Whatever it was, it was well beyond his lip reading skills. Then she walked off down the garden.

  ‘D’you want tea, Jeremy?’ Geraldine was shouting from the kitchen.

  ‘That’s your answer for everything, isn’t it?’

  Jane sat down on the sofa next to Poland and put her arm around him. ‘We’re doing our best, Roger.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You didn’t have to tell them.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Has anyone been in touch with them?’ asked Dixon turning to Geraldine, who was handing a mug of tea to Ros behind him. ‘A ransom demand, anything like that.’

  ‘Why would they?’ replied Ros, ‘If it’s him they’re after.’ She pointed at Poland with her teaspoon.

  ‘No,’ said Geraldine. ‘No one’s contacted them.’

  Dixon nodded.

  ‘What happens if these three all have alibis?’ asked Jeremy, stepping back into the living room. Adele was visible over his shoulder, at the bottom of the garden, pulling at her hair.