by David Evans
Ormerod released the pause.
“Why? What else do you want to tell us about?” Ormerod asked.
“Nothing. Nothing.” His hand went to his mouth again, and nails were nervously chewed.
“Okay, Gary. I’m going to hold you for the time being while we continue our enquiries. If you think of anything else you want to tell us, I think it would be in your best interests.”
“But …” Baker looked pleadingly at the solicitor. “They can’t keep me in, can they?”
“They’ve got twenty-four hours, Mr Baker. After that they must charge or release you,” the solicitor informed him.
“Unless, of course we successfully apply for an extension from a JP,” Ormerod added.
“Shit.” Baker muttered.
Ormerod stopped the tape. “Thought we’d let him stew overnight, guv. What about his brother?”
“No reason to detain him at the moment, so I let him go home. Wouldn’t mind betting he’ll be back once he knows Gary’s staying for B & B.”
Carrying an audio cassette player, Strong and Stainmore entered Interview Room 3 and sat down opposite Steve Chapman and yet another duty solicitor.
“Mr Chapman,” Strong said, “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
The suspect grunted.
Strong then went through the required procedures for taped interviews before questioning Chapman about his involvement with Gary Baker and the vehicle maintenance business they allegedly ran at Meadow Woods Farm. The answers were remarkably similar to those extracted from Baker earlier.
“So, it would be fair to say that the business isn’t doing too well? You haven’t actually got a lot of work on?” Strong concluded.
“Well not really,” Chapman replied. “I’ve got my day job. I mean, I was only helping Gary out evenings and weekends. But, you’re right, Gary hasn’t got a lot of business drive.”
“So you wouldn’t deal with any work on higher end vehicles then? Mercedes, Range Rovers, say?”
Chapman’s left leg began nervously bouncing on the ball of his foot. “No. You’d need computers and such. Specialised equipment. We can’t afford it.”
“No Subaru Sports or anything like that?”
Chapman hesitated. “Course not.”
Strong bent down and lifted the cassette player onto the table. “I’d like you to listen to something, Steve. You don’t mind me calling you Steve, do you?”
Chapman looked at the solicitor, puzzled.
“Chief Inspector, does this have any relevance to the accusations against my client?” the solicitor asked.
“Actually,” Strong responded, “we haven’t made any accusations yet. But I think this will be of interest to your client.”
The solicitor raised his eyebrows.
Strong ignored the interruption and pressed the ‘play’ button. The answer message left on Susan Brown’s phone filled the room. There was no mistaking Chapman’s reaction. He was shocked that his words were being replayed here and now.
“That is you, isn’t it?” Strong asked when it had finished.
“Well … I er … Gary gave you that?”
Strong smiled and waited a few seconds. “Actually, no.”
“So … but where … I don’t get it.”
“Do you know a Susan Brown, Steve?”
Chapman appeared totally bemused now. “Susan Brown?” He looked at his solicitor. “Never heard of her.”
“Remember I mentioned a Subaru Sports? Would it surprise you to know we found evidence of one having been at the building you and Gary Baker were using at Meadow Woods Farm?”
“Now look here, I told you I only helped Gary out occasionally, evenings and weekends. If there was anything dodgy with a Subaru, it must have been him.”
“Who said there was anything dodgy about it?”
“Well, I assumed …”
“And not surprisingly,” Strong interrupted, “that’s exactly what Gary said. If there was anything dodgy, it would be down to you.”
“The bast…” Chapman fell silent.
“And you maintain you don’t know a Susan Brown?”
Another puzzled look. “I’ve told you, I’ve never heard of Susan Brown. Who is she?”
“But a Subaru Sports, that’s a different matter.”
“But … what? Look, I don’t know anything about Susan Brown or a Subaru Sports car.”
“Okay, for the time being, pending further enquiries, we propose to hold you in custody, Mr Chapman.”
“But …”
“That’s all for now.” Strong rose from his seat and left the interview room.
15
Wednesday
“He wants to talk, guv.” Ormerod said, as he and Strong made their way along the first floor corridor to the CID room.
“Which one?”
“Gary Baker.” He held out a polystyrene cup of indeterminate liquid. “Want a coffee?”
Strong screwed his face up. “No thanks, Luke. You sure that doesn’t come with a health warning?”
Ormerod smiled. “Interview Room 2, if you want to join us.”
“I’ll catch you up in a bit.” Strong carried on to his office, and was reviewing his messages when he received a phone call to tell him Susan Brown had regained consciousness. He checked his watch, decided Ormerod and Stainmore could comfortably handle Baker and set off for the hospital to speak to Susan.
Two hours later he left Leeds General Infirmary. Susan was still sedated but she’d managed to confirm most of what he already knew. When he got to his car, he called Ormerod for an update.
“Baker’s admitted he stole high value vehicles, changed their identities and moved them on,” Ormerod told him.
“You haven’t charged him yet, though?”
“Was about to.”
“Well, hold fire until I get back. There’s a few things we need to clarify.”
Just after noon, Strong and Ormerod were seated opposite Gary Baker conducting the third interview. Accompanied by his solicitor, Baker appeared nervous.
“So just to be clear, Gary,” Strong said, “you’re admitting to the theft of four vehicles as detailed by Detective Sergeant Ormerod earlier.”
“Yes,” Baker almost whispered.
“That’s fine, as far as it goes, but I need a few more details.” Strong sat back in his chair. “For instance, where have the cars ended up?”
“No comment.”
“Come on. Other people are involved.”
“No comment.”
“Steve Chapman must be involved.”
“No comment.”
A knock on the door and Stainmore appeared. “Guv, can I have a word.”
Outside in the corridor, she told him that Simon Clay, the young farmer who’d found Susan Brown’s car, had called back to report interesting recent activity at the farm. On a number of occasions over the past few weeks, he’d spotted a container lorry run by a local contractor, Dave Pratt. Normally, the place was deserted. It was only the recent police interest that made him think it might be significant.
“Could be how the cars are moved on, guv,” Stainmore said. “I’m going to check it out now.”
Strong returned to the interview room and sat down. “Who are you protecting, Gary?” he asked.
“No comment.”
“I hope you’re not going to do that for the rest of the interview. It’s really stupid, you know.”
Baker shrugged.
“Do you know a Dave Pratt?”
“Never heard of him.” But his face told a different story.
“Where were you on Saturday evening?”
“You know where I was.”
“Were you at the barn at Meadow Woods Farm?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“No. I’d picked up Steve.”
“Did anyone else turn up?”
“No.”
“So no other vehicle came up into the yard that evening?”
Baker was beginnin
g to shake and bite his nails. “No.”
“You didn’t see a dark coloured Mercedes drive up the track?”
“N .. no. There wasn’t anyone else.”
“Okay, Gary. Let’s move on. Why were you and Steve at the barn on Saturday night?”
“We went to look at the Merc.”
“That would be the white Mercedes Sports Coupe we spoke of earlier.”
Baker nodded.
“For the benefit of the tape, please.”
“Yes.”
“And you’d stolen the car the day before from an address in the Newmiller Dam area.”
Baker hesitated. “That’s right.”
Strong leaned back, looked across at Ormerod and smiled.
“You know what, DC Ormerod, Gary here is just giving us a whole load of bollocks.”
Ormerod smiled at his boss. “And what makes you say that, guv?”
Strong turned back to Baker. “I’ll give you one last chance to tell us the truth, Gary.”
Baker leaned forward. “Look, I nicked them and took them up to the barn. I only asked Steve to check them over after I’d swopped plates and they were ready to be collected. Steve knew nothing about this.”
“That’s crap and you know it. Steve Chapman nicked the cars, you changed identities and the pair of you shipped them on.”
“No, it was all down to me.”
“So how come you hadn’t a clue where the Merc was stolen? It was nowhere near Newmiller Dam.”
“I got confused, that’s all.”
“So where did you lift it?”
“No comment.”
Strong turned to Ormerod once more. “Charge him, Luke.”
16
Souter walked up from The Post’s offices on Wellington Street to Leeds General and passed through the main doors just after two o’clock. Earlier that morning, Alison had called to tell him Susan had regained consciousness. Susan wanted him to visit her so she could thank him personally for finding her. He also suspected Susan wanted to meet him because he was a journalist.
He made his way to ITU and reported to the nurse station. One of them went off and came back with Gillian.
“It’s okay,” she said to the nurse, “Susan wants to see Mr Souter.”
“Only ten minutes, though. We don’t want to tire her.”
“Thanks for coming,” Gillian said as they made their way along the corridor. “I’m sure it’ll cheer her up.”
At the door she paused. “If you don’t mind, I’m just going to nip down for a cup of tea. I’ve been here since this morning. Is that okay?”
“Sure, we’ll be fine.”
Susan, head and right elbow bandaged, seemed asleep when he entered. There was a drip up but Souter was pleased to note she didn’t appear to be connected to the array of machines behind her bed. A good sign, he thought.
She opened her eyes as the door closed and a weak smile appeared on her face.
“Hello,” she said.
“Well you look a lot better than when I last saw you.”
“And that’s thanks to you.”
“I think the paramedics and the doctors had far more to do with it.”
“Seriously, though. Thank you.” Susan raised her left hand and Souter took hold of it.
“Glad I could be of service,” he said.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I thought you’d still be in ITU so I …”
“No, not here,” she giggled, “at that house.”
Souter laughed. “Sorry, wasn’t on the ball. I have a good friend who’s a policeman. He told me where they’d found your car and I decided to have a look round. That deserted farmyard was about the only logical place you could have gone. The alternatives didn’t bear thinking about.” Souter released her hand and sat in the chair by the side of her bed. “You went there after that answer message didn’t you?”
Susan gave a small nod.
“What was that all about?”
She motioned for a glass of water on the bedside unit. Souter helped her take a drink then she began the tale of calling Chapman back and following him and his friend to Meadow Woods Farm.
“So what was in the barn?” he asked when she finished.
“A fancy white Merc sports car.”
“Stolen, I assume.”
“Don’t know.”
“That would certainly tie in with the message,” Souter considered.
“At first it sounded like … well … this probably sounds daft.”
“No, go on, Susan.”
“Well, I just had this notion that he was talking about a woman, or a girl … and I thought … I mean, it could have been …”
“You thought Chapman was talking about an abduction?”
“Yes.”
“I can see how you might have thought that. It’s not so far fetched.”
Susan went quiet, as if thinking about what to say next.
“Is there something else?” Souter asked.
“When you found me …”
“Yes.”
“This is going to sound stupid.”
“Come on, Susan, if there’s something bothering you, just say.”
She made a great effort to raise herself up on her good elbow and lean closer. “Well, when you found me, was there anybody else there?”
Souter was puzzled. “How do you mean – anybody else? Where?”
“In the basement.”
“No, why?”
“It’s just … when I was there … on two occasions there were … no it couldn’t be. I was probably just delirious.” She lay back down on her pillows.
“Now you’ve got my interest, don’t just leave it there. What?”
“There were two little girls. And that can’t be.”
Souter leaned forward. “When you say two little girls, what do you mean?”
“Ten and eight.”
“That sounds pretty accurate”
“That’s because they told me how old they were”
“You spoke to them?”
“See, I told you it was going to sound stupid.”
“No. It doesn’t. I’m curious now.”
Susan then related the details of her encounters with Jennifer and Mary.
Souter’s eyes widened.
“And I never saw them again,” she concluded.
Souter was about to ask a question when Gillian returned.
“Hi. Everything okay?” she asked.
“Susan was just telling me about her time in the basement.”
Before the conversation could continue, a staff nurse entered.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, “but Susan needs to rest.”
“I understand,” Souter said. He got to his feet and turned to Susan. “I’ll look into it for you and let you know.”
“Hey,” she called out, “don’t forget it’s my story.”
Souter smiled. “Promise. But we’ll work it together.”
17
Strong was sitting in the canteen with Jim Ryan drinking a tea when Ormerod spotted them. He bought a sandwich and a coffee and came over to their table.
“Charged Chapman as well?” Strong asked him.
Ormerod sat down beside Ryan and opposite Strong. “Yep. Both released on bail this afternoon. But tell me what was all that about a dark coloured Merc?”
“I saw Susan Brown in hospital this morning,” Strong said. “She’s regained consciousness, thank God. Anyway, she confirmed what we thought, she’d linked Chapman to the message and followed him when he was picked up by Baker. She saw the white sports car in the barn but panicked when another car came up the track. She ran into the old farmhouse so she wouldn’t be seen. Just as she stepped back to avoid the headlights, she noticed the distinctive front end of a large Mercedes saloon. The only other thing she could say was that it was dark coloured. As she took a step back, well we know the rest.”
“Wouldn’t be a 300SE would it?” Ryan asked.
“Don’t know, Jim. It was dark and with the headlights on that’s all Susan could tell me. Why? What are you thinking?”
“Probably nothing. Maybe a coincidence, but Mirczack drives a dark blue version.”
Strong paused for a second with his drink halfway to his lips. “I thought vice and people trafficking were his forte. Anyway, Susan’s description is way too vague. No, as you say, it’s probably coincidence.”
“Probably.” Ryan didn’t look convinced.
“At least we know Gary Baker didn’t nick the Merc sports car,” Ormerod said.
“He didn’t have a clue where it came from,” Strong agreed. “I doubt if he could tell you where any of them were stolen. No, Chapman, did the lifting. The message on Susan’s phone was from him to Gary remember, telling Gary that he, Chapman, had lifted another one. Baker may well have cleaned them out and changed the plates, but who are they working for? They wouldn’t have the nous or the contacts to pass them on.”
“Mirczack?” Ryan put forward.
Strong puffed his cheeks out and raised his eyebrows. “Bit of a leap, Jim.”
“What did Kelly want?” Ormerod asked.
“Ah, that farmer lad who found the car reckons that a local one-man band transport operator by the name of Dave Pratt had his lorry up at the farm on a number of occasions over the past two months. He was coupled to a trailer with a container on it.”
“Ideal way of transporting a vehicle relatively unnoticed.”
“Exactly.”
Strong drained his tea then asked Ryan about progress on the missing Albanian girl.
“No sign of her on any bus CCTV,” Ryan said, “and none of the crews remembered her. I’m beginning to think she never took the bus. In fact, I think there’s a lot about Helena we don’t know.”
“I think there’s a lot Magda doesn’t know either,” Strong agreed. “What did Vice tell you about Mirczack?”
“Apparently, he owns three massage parlours in Leeds and Bradford plus interests in two nightclubs in Leeds. They reckon Szymanski manages the parlours for him. At the moment, they’re keeping a watching brief. They know what goes on there but as long as it doesn’t involve under-age, they’d rather have it off the streets.”
