Gill knew the rudiments of the test, a way to identify and quantify volatile compounds. ‘If it’s not petrol then what is it?’
‘Could be paint thinner, acetone or a kerosene-based accelerant,’ he said.
‘Kerosene?’ Gill asked.
‘You’re looking at paraffin for heaters or lamps or lighter fuel, the sort of thing people use to light a barbecue.’
Neil Perry had made a comment about a barbecue when Rachel asked him to account for the petrol on his clothes. ‘We only found petrol on the Perrys’ clothing. No kerosene.’
‘True. Of course a device can be thrown from some distance so you don’t get that splashback effect you have when emptying a petrol can.’
‘Light the blue touch paper and stand well back,’ Gill said. ‘Have you been doing any house-to-house yet?’
‘We have, I’ll get everything sent through to you. You’ll merge the inquiries?’
‘If it’s murder,’ she said.
‘You think it is?’
‘Don’t you?’
He tipped his head in agreement.
‘Let’s see what pathologist finds.’ She opened her phone, ready to rouse all and sundry from their beds to get the investigation moving.
The post-mortems gave Gill a sense of déjà vu. The smell of charred flesh in the room, the blackened forms on the tables. The procedures were carried out on each body in turn. Gradually, methodically, Garvey built up a profile of the victims.
Victim number one was a woman, height five foot nine, evidence of historic injuries to the right arm and leg. Teeth showed poor dental care. African ethnicity. Age estimated between eighteen and twenty-five. Victim number two, male, height five foot ten, evidence of malnourishment with poor bone density. The same ethnicity and estimated age.
X-rays showed that both victims had been shot.
The woman had two bullets in her chest cavity.
The man had one in his chest and one in his head.
It was murder.
Nobody was grumbling about being pulled into work so early, certainly not Rachel. This was what she lived for. The court had granted them a further thirty-six hours to question the Perry brothers for the Kavanagh murder and Rachel reckoned that they nearly had enough to discuss going to charge with the CPS. Sometimes the Crown Prosecution Service were too cautious, bleating about insufficient evidence and letting people walk – that was the pits. When after all the work, all the hours they put in, gathering evidence, interviewing, carefully putting it together, the scumbags waltzed off, scot-free, a smirk on their face and a hard-on, no doubt: fucked the system.
Now this had blown up. Two more bodies, same neck of the woods, same MO. It was possible the twins would be looking at charges on three counts of murder, not just one. The boss had barely got her coat off and she was bringing them up to speed. They had drafted in extra officers to cope with the challenge of working three murder investigations.
‘Fire investigation officers had already been speaking to the community when this was believed to be simply a case of arson,’ the boss said. ‘Summaries of those interviews, along with any significant intelligence, will be available within the hour. I understand that the Perry brothers are persons of interest but as yet we have not had any information putting them at the warehouse on Friday. What we have been hearing is that the premises were being used for drug-dealing in the last few months.’
No surprise there, Rachel thought. An abandoned building was a magnet for junkies and other lowlifes. Off the radar, no water or electric but walls and a roof, somewhere to shelter. Attractive to dealers too, off the streets and out of sight, away from prying eyes. Though these days some of them were bold as brass, hanging about on street corners, and taking orders with kids on bikes to run the drugs. Students of The Wire.
‘This could be a drug dispute?’ Rachel said.
‘Possible,’ said the boss.
‘Intel are still saying no known hostile takeovers,’ Mitch said.
‘Maybe this is it, just kicking off.’ Rachel again.
‘Could be our two victims were dealers then someone robbed them,’ said Lee.
‘If they’ve been dealing for some months they’re going to be getting the supply from Marcus Williams,’ Mitch said. ‘Anyone mad enough to go after them must have a death wish themselves. Williams is still in pole position and he’s vicious as a pitbull when he’s crossed.’
‘Allegedly,’ the boss said, reminding them Williams had never been charged with any crime. ‘And his lieutenant, Stanley Keane, allegedly, does the nasty when needs must. As I said, we have no ID for our two victims so that is top of the list.’ Godzilla went on, ‘The crimes look very similar except for one significant difference: the accelerant used was not the same in both cases.’
‘Ballistics?’ Rachel was wondering if the same gun had been used.
‘They’re busy with it now,’ the boss said.
Kevin spoke up. ‘The men in prison for the post office robbery—’
‘In which the same weapon was used,’ the boss said.
‘Refused to comment,’ Kevin said.
Fancy that, thought Rachel. ‘Pretty safe bet they got it from Tandy.’
‘You want a flutter, Rachel, get yourself down Paddy Power’s. We need facts, not bets,’ Her Maj said, ‘and we need Tandy.’
‘Not answering his phone,’ Mitch said.
‘Maybe he’s left the area,’ said Kevin.
‘Why?’ asked the boss.
‘Because of the murder, he doesn’t want to be taken down with the Perry twins,’ Kevin said.
‘Where would he go? Has he any associates elsewhere, family?’
‘No,’ Pete said, ‘stays close to home when he’s not banged up.’
The boss shook her head, irritated at their failure to find the man.
Without Janet available as acting sergeant, Her Maj asked for a volunteer to allocate actions and Lee volunteered. Rachel didn’t. She didn’t want to be coordinating other people, she wanted to be back out there, finding the dirt on Neil and Noel Perry that would see them looking at life in prison.
‘As we did with Kavanagh,’ the boss said, ‘talk to local organizations and residents, churches, charities, whatever. Do any of them recall a young, black couple? Of course this will be bad for public confidence and for our crime stats. The Chief Con and the reducing crime bods can worry about the statistics, we can’t do anything about that. But what we can do, in terms of community morale and public relations, is put every ounce of energy into finding out who killed these people and bringing them to trial. Any questions?’
The room was quiet.
‘Before you go, I need to make you aware that Janet Scott is taking some personal time. As most of you will know by now, the teenager Olivia Canning was a close friend of Janet’s daughter. For the purposes of that investigation, Janet is a civilian. Should you acquire any information on that inquiry from our colleagues on division, those details shall remain confidential from Janet.’ The boss swivelled her head this way and that, checking they’d taken in what she was saying. ‘Regarding our friends in the fourth estate …’
Godzilla’s phone rang, she broke off and held up a hand for quiet.
‘You’re sure,’ she said, ‘both of them?’
Rachel could see light gleam in her eyes. Godzilla palmed her phone. ‘Analysis on the bullets shows the same weapon used in all three murders. We’ve got a series. Now let’s see what you can bring me. Quick as you like.’
The warehouse stood between the main road, Shuttling Way, and the canal. Derby Fold Lane bordered the plot to the west, leading from the dual carriageway and over the canal bridge. Where the lane descended from the bridge was the spot that the fire investigation officers had identified as the point of entry. The boards there had rotted away at the base and someone had smashed a hole big as a doorway to gain access to the site. So anyone going to the building would have to go along Derby Fold Lane. To the east was a small terraced row,
Pocklington Street. Any view those houses might once have had across the yard to the building had since been blocked by high sheet fencing, so only the upper floors were visible. Rachel turned the map around and checked. The land at the far side of Derby Fold Lane was unoccupied scrubland. Which left Manton Street over the canal as the nearest houses likely to have seen any comings and goings. Manton Street, where Greg Tandy lived with his wife and son.
Rachel began there.
Connor answered the door, rolling his eyes when he saw who it was.
‘Your dad back?’ Rachel said.
‘No.’
‘You seen him since yesterday?’
‘No.’
‘What about your mum, she in?’
‘Work,’ he sniffed.
‘The bodies of two people were recovered from the fire at the warehouse,’ Rachel said, ‘a man and woman, we’re trying to identify them. Early twenties, both black.’
‘Dunno,’ he shrugged.
‘Not seen anyone like that about?’ Rachel said.
‘They all look the same to me, niggers,’ he said. Trying to wind her up?
‘What about the warehouse, people coming and going there, you notice that?’
He pulled a face, shook his head. She didn’t believe him.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he said.
‘Where?’ Rachel said.
‘School.’
‘You’re late, aren’t you?’
He didn’t answer, rubbed his nose.
‘Word has it the warehouse was used for drug-dealing. You know anything about that?’ Rachel said.
‘No.’ Something altered in his eyes.
‘You’ve not been there, buying stuff?’
‘No,’ he scowled.
‘So, if we were to arrange a drugs test, you’d be clear?’
‘You can’t do that without permission, I’m only fourteen,’ he said. ‘Need an appropriate adult with me, too.’
‘Been reading up on your rights, have you?’ she said. ‘Look, I just don’t think you’ve been very honest with me, and that makes me think you might have something to hide. Maybe you do know where your dad is but you’re not saying, maybe you know something about the drug deals but you’re too scared to say.’
‘I’m not scared,’ he sneered.
‘But you are concealing something and that would warrant us cautioning you and holding you for formal questioning. Your mum could be the appropriate adult if you wish.’
He set his jaw, the edges of his lips whitened with tension. ‘I don’t know where he is,’ he said, ‘I swear.’
Rachel didn’t respond, she wanted more.
He cleared his throat. ‘But I seen them about, the blacks.’
‘You know their names?’
He shook his head.
‘Come on, Connor.’
‘It’s the fucking truth!’ His face flushed red. ‘Look, there’s this girl, Shirelle, she used to hang with the bloke. Talk to her.’
‘Shirelle who?’
He shook his head.
‘Where will I find her?’
‘She lives in Hawkins,’ he said.
The high-rise, Hawkins Tower. Over a hundred flats. ‘That really narrows it down,’ Rachel said.
‘That’s all I can tell you.’
‘What’s she look like, this Shirelle?’
‘Half-caste,’ he said.
‘How old?’
‘Twenty?’ he said uncertainly. ‘I didn’t tell you, and I’m no grass.’ For a moment he sounded very young, scared. He bit his lip. How many times had he answered the door to the police already? His father not out five minutes and already looking at a recall. Return to jail, do not pass go.
‘You ever done any boxing?’ Rachel said.
‘What?’ He was thrown by the change of topic.
‘Boxing. The gym in town. They do boxing, self-defence.’
‘I can look after myself.’ He bristled, probably thought she was calling him a weed.
‘Not saying you can’t. Bet you’d be a good bantamweight with the right training.’
‘What’s this? Olympics crap?’
The country was awash with promotional stuff for the London Olympics. ‘No,’ Rachel said. ‘You should give it a go. There’s five-a-side too, table football. What else you going to do? Hang around here and end up getting into trouble?’
‘You a social worker?’ he said scornfully.
‘Try it,’ Rachel said.
‘Fuck off.’
‘I dare you.’
He looked askance.
‘Bring the bike, we’re building a stunt circuit. You can do stunts, can’t you?’
He glared at her.
‘Open three till ten every day. Doesn’t have to be like this,’ she said. Cursing herself as the words left her mouth, sounding all touchy-feely like Alison. He looked at her, raised eyebrows, a hint of humour in his eyes. Why did she bother? She’d tried this sort of thing with Dom and that had worked out really well, hadn’t it?
17
Janet sat with Elise and two detectives from division in the soft interview room at Middleton police station.
DC Goodman was doing most of the questioning. Young – well, young in Janet’s eyes – and mild-mannered with a slight stutter, he had explained to Elise her rights, why she was there and that she was free to leave at any time.
His colleague, DC Khan, spoke to introduce herself, then kept notes and listened intently to Elise’s answers.
So far Elise herself had been subdued, cooperative. No tears today, though she sometimes came close. There were tissues on the table, water and glasses.
‘Then we went to get a drink in the kitchen,’ Elise said.
‘What did you have?’
‘Cider,’ she said.
‘And Olivia?’
‘Same.’
‘And then?’
‘We talked to some people there and then went in the living room. Someone was playing music, on decks,’ she said. ‘We got another drink, more people came and then this girl was going round, talking to people and selling things, drugs.’ Her voice wavered. ‘Olivia said we should try some, to have a laugh. The girl stopped by us and she said, “What are you after?” Olivia said, “Something for the party,” and the girl held up some pills with smileys on. “Es,” she said. I said, “No, it’s all right.” I didn’t want to get them but then she said, “How about some Paradise?” We didn’t know what she meant. Then she showed us these tablets, said it was legal, there was no law against taking it or buying or selling it. And that it would put a smile on our faces like E. I thought maybe she was making it up, but she said check it online if you want to, everyone’s selling it, you go into Headspace in town and you can get it there. It just sounded better. So we said yes.’
‘How much did you get?’ DC Goodman asked.
‘Two each, ten pounds altogether,’ Elise said.
‘And who paid?’
‘Me, I did,’ she said, glancing at Janet, her face clouded with misery.
‘Can you describe the person who sold you the drugs?’ DC Goodman said.
‘She wasn’t as tall as me, she had black hair, wavy. I think she was mixed race. I don’t remember anything else.’
‘Did you hear anyone use a name?’ DC Goodman said.
‘No.’
‘What did she do after you bought the drugs?’ he said.
‘She carried on into the other room. Then she went,’ Elise said.
‘You saw her leave?’
‘Yes.’
Home delivery, someone at the party knew a dealer to call on for the occasion.
‘What happened then?’ DC Goodman said.
‘We took the stuff and we sat on the stairs for a bit, just hanging out and erm … Olivia said she felt dizzy, and I said …’ Elise gulped.
Janet could feel the mounting tension in her.
‘… “Isn’t that the point?” We thought it was really funny and laughed but then she said she felt wor
se. She said she was cold but when I felt her head she was really hot so I said to get a drink of water. We went in the kitchen and erm …’ a wobble in her voice, ‘then she, then she had the fit. Some people thought she was messing about but she wasn’t and then she wasn’t talking or answering. And I rang Mum and then the ambulance.’
‘You both took the drugs?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘And you didn’t expect there’d be any harmful effects?’ DC Goodman said.
‘No. We thought it would be fun.’
‘Thank you. We’re going to get your statement written up and then you’ll be asked to check it, tell us if anything isn’t correct or if you’d forgotten anything, and then you’ll sign it. If you do that you are also agreeing to testify in court, if required.’
Janet had lost count of the number of times she’d said the very same words. Elise nodded vigorously. Janet felt a flicker of fear. If charges were brought against the dealer, Elise could be in a vulnerable position, people might try to prevent her from giving evidence. Elise, naïve, sheltered, was unaware of this.
It might not get that far, Janet told herself, and they might not need Elise as a witness. Charges would focus on drugs banned by law, there must be other youngsters from the party who had bought illegal drugs, who would be witnesses to that. If it did come to a trial and they wanted Elise for some reason, they could ask for special measures, so she could give evidence anonymously from a video link or from behind screens.
‘Mum,’ Elise said, while they were waiting, ‘could we get a card for Vivien and Ken, is that what people do?’
‘Yes, if you’d like to.’
Elise gave a nod.
DC Goodman returned and Elise read through the statement and signed it.
‘What happens now?’ Janet asked him, for Elise’s benefit rather than her own.
‘We’ve some more inquiries to make. When those are completed, we consult with the Crown Prosecution Service as to whether there are any grounds for bringing charges.’
‘Like what?’ Elise said.
‘That would be up to them but in your situation, you didn’t break the law buying the Paradise or giving some to your friend. You had no reason to expect that the substance would cause harm, you took some yourself. So I really can’t see that any crime has been committed.’
Ruthless (Cath Staincliffe) Page 14
