Delayed & Denied

by J. J. Salkeld

  ‘Aye, maybe. But won’t the bosses pony up a bit more money if they see we need it later on? Some enquiries are just complex, aren’t they?’

  ‘In Andy’s day they would have, aye, and he used to rely on that. But now now, Ian. We’ve barely been on it for one shift with a full murder team and I’ve already had an email from the ACC asking if he can expect a quick result.’

  ‘He’s just asking if the husband did it though, isn’t he?’

  ‘Partly that, yes, but there’s more to it. Look, Ian, I’ve decided. Lift the surveillance on Phil Smith.’

  ‘Come on, Jane. At least leave it overnight.’

  ‘No. We pull it. Just get it done, please, Ian.’

  She’d barely rung off when her phone rang again. The civilian driving the van rolled her eyes sympathetically, and Jane smiled. She didn’t mind the calls at all, though. Because phone calls meant information, and information meant progress. And anyway she’d glanced at her phone’s screen before she answered. If it had been Andy she’d have sent it to voice-mail, but it was Joe from the tech team, so she answered on the second ring.

  ‘I’ve got names for you. Thought you’d want to know. Tom Ferguson, Jack Lee and Matt Jessop. All local. It’ll all be on an email in five minutes.’

  The van had left the motorway now, and Kendal was laid out in front of the windscreen in the early evening sun, like a body on the slab. But Jane was back on the phone to Ian again, and he was still in Whitehaven.

  ‘You want these three lads talked to tonight, Jane? The back-shift will be on in a bit, so I can get them briefed.’

  ‘No, we’ll speak to them in the morning. Let’s you and me do that ourselves. Tell the back shift to stay on the victim’s timeline, and try to identify the other blokes that she seems to have been communicating with as well. I’ve only flicked through the whole email trail, but it looks to me like there are three or four other persons of interest in there.’

  ‘Popular lass, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Come on, Ian, you know better than that,’ she said, reacting to his his tone. ‘If it was a bloke you’d say he was obviously a bit of lad, a right jammy bugger.’

  ‘Aye, lass. I suppose I would, at that.’

  Grace was fast asleep when Jane got home, and for once she wasn’t all that disappointed. She was so tired that she couldn’t concentrate at all on what Andy was saying as they ate, even though he was obviously extremely eager to talk.

  ‘Look, love,’ he said, ‘I know you’re flat out with this suspicious death out west…’

  ‘It’s murder, Andy. And it isn’t looking straightforward.’

  ‘You mean the husband didn’t do it?’

  She smiled, wearily. ‘Probably, aye, but not definitely. They’d recently separated, very recently actually, which you’d think puts him squarely in the frame, but there are complications.’

  ‘What complications?’

  ‘She’d been seeing other men. Several, by the looks of it. And we may end up with no physical evidence at all, and no eye witnesses either. So, even if the husband did do it…’

  ‘You’ll have to build a really strong case to secure a conviction?’

  ‘Exactly. Like I say, odds are still that he’s our man, but courts aren’t betting shops, are they?’

  ‘The one that convicted Adam Burke was.’

  Jane put her glass down a good deal harder than she’d intended.

  ‘Jesus, Andy, don’t you ever bloody stop? It’s over, love. And be reasonable, just for once, and answer me this question. Which is more important, catching a killer who’s out there right now, and who might easily kill again, or righting a possible wrong that everyone’s forgotten about years since? You tell me, Andy.’

  ‘It shouldn’t have to be a choice.’

  ‘I agree, it bloody well should not. But it is. That’s just how it is. I’ve barely got the budget to make a decent fist of this case, and if it grows arms and legs I’ll be in trouble, no doubt about that. What you’re doing is a luxury, love, and we just can’t afford those any more.’

  She couldn’t read Hall’s expression, but that was nothing unusual. And when he spoke again his tone was as neutral as always.

  ‘No, Jane, it’s not a luxury. Because I believe that not only was Adam Burke’s conviction suspect, but that there’s a high probability that he’s not a killer at all. And if I’m right, then the person who murdered Sharon Burke all those years ago might still be out there. And who knows when he might kill again?’

  ‘Come on, love, that’s a huge stretch, and we both know it. I appreciate that looking after Grace isn’t the most intellectually stimulating activity in the world, and I’m really pleased that you’ve had this interest, but the chance of the Burke case ever being anything more than an example of a poor defence of a probably guilty man are really small. Honestly, I wouldn’t lose any more sleep over it, love.’

  Thursday 16th August

  Riverside cafe, Kendal

  Andy Hall hadn’t heard Jane get up, shower and leave for work, but he and Grace were still at the cafe moments after it opened at nine. Sarah Hardcastle was already there, and had chosen the perfect table for Grace and the buggy, with some shade and a place for Grace that wouldn’t impede anyone’s progress. Hall smiled at her thoughtfulness, even before he noticed the pot of tea waiting for him.

  They spent five minutes discussing the possibility of persuading the police to open the Burke file to Hall again, even though they both knew that they were wasting their breath.

  ‘So that’s it, is it?’ said Hall. ‘Without access to the files there’s not much we can do. Bugger all, in fact. We’ve got a few more of the original witnesses left to talk to, and Ray is on with that today, but I’m not hopeful. The ones he spoke to yesterday couldn’t remember what happened last week, most of them, let alone over twenty years ago.’

  Sarah Hardcastle nodded sadly, and was about to reply when she heard her phone ringing. It took her a few seconds to find it and Hall watched, amused. She was such a well-organised person that it seemed odd somehow, to see her flustered like that. He tried not to listen to the conversation, but he couldn’t help himself. Sarah was speaking to someone called Ashley, who Hall guessed was one of the Superintendents at HQ.

  ‘And you’re saying that one of the names that’s come up was connected to the Burke case?’ Sarah was saying. ‘Are you quite sure?’ There was a pause. ‘Yes, it is a relatively uncommon name, but Andy Hall is with me now, and I think he’d have known, don’t you?’ Another pause. ‘But you’re certain, Ashley? It’s the same Jack Lee, and he was a close contact of the dead woman? A person of interest, in fact?’

  Hall took a sip of his tea and it tasted bitter, and too milky. He put it down, and waited for Sarah to ring off. He was furious with Jane. It felt like a betrayal, because that was precisely what it was. Why hadn’t she told him about Jack Lee? Was it because she was planning to develop the connection with the Burke case herself, which he could understand, or was it because she wanted to ignore the possibility that the cases were connected, no matter how remote that chance might be?

  ‘You heard all that?’ said Sarah.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And Jane didn’t say anything last night?’

  ‘No.’

  Hall didn’t elaborate, and took another sip of his tea. It wasn’t tasting any more palatable.

  ‘Well, it probably doesn’t change anything, Andy, you do see that? It’s probably just a co-incidence anyway.’

  ‘Unless they nick Jack Lee for this new murder. Then it’s game on, isn’t it?’

  ‘Agreed, and your notes to me yesterday did imply that you fancied Lee for the Burke killing.’

  ‘I said that I think he’s absolutely as credible a suspect as Burke himself, which isn’t quite the same thing. We both know that if this crime had been committed six months ago, and we had all the evidence that is in that police file, then no prosecutions at all would have been brought. Not agai
nst Burke, and certainly not against Lee.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, and watched two runners glide past. Grace made a pre-waking noise, but then was silent again.

  ‘All right,’ said Hall, eventually, ‘here’s what I suggest. We keep Ray at it with the last of those wits, but like I say we don’t get our hopes up. Meanwhile, can you try to get us back into that file, given that one of our prime suspects has turned up in this new murder?’

  ‘I can, but wouldn’t that piss Jane off? Her bosses too, I dare say.’

  ‘That’s why it’s best if the request comes from you. In any case, I’m pretty certain that your friends in the CPS will have more leverage than me with the new ACC. He’s the gate-keeper here, Sarah, and if he thought that we might be able to help with a live case, and at no cost to Cumbria Constabulary, then he’d be a fool not to bring us back in, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘If you say so, Andy, if you say so.’

  Ian Mann had kipped in a cell at Workington nick and his back felt all the better for it. The custody sergeant even managed to find him some breakfast cereal that wasn’t three parts sugar, and the shower was more powerful than the one in his own cottage back in Kendal. So he was in a good mood when the young probationer interrupted him half way through shaving.

  ‘Where’s the fire, lad?’ he asked, and noticed that the PC was eyeing his cut-throat razor nervously.

  ‘The Duty Inspector told me to come and find you, Sarge. We’ve had a walk in, a witness, like.’

  ‘Fantastic. Right, tell you what, son. You get up to that witness, get them settled in your comfiest interview room, bring them tea or coffee of their choice, and I’ll be there in a minute or two.’

  ‘I don’t think we have a choice of coffee, Sarge.’

  ‘Really? We have soya mochas down in Kendal, but that’s just how we roll, as they say. So you just get them sat down and comfortable, and I’ll be with you in a jiffy.’

  And as soon as DS Mann walked into the interview room, a tiny blob of shaving foam hanging from his left ear lobe like an improbable earring, he knew that he was on to a winner. The woman sitting opposite looked completely normal. Old enough to know better than to bullshit a detective, but still young enough to have decent eyesight, and a reliable short term memory.

  ‘Mrs. Atkins,’ he said, sitting down opposite her, ‘I’m DS Ian Mann, and if it’s all right with you I’m going to record our conversation, although we’ll also take a statement. Because I think I’m right in saying that you saw Jenny Smith on Tuesday evening. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, officer, that is correct.’

  ‘Good.’ Mann nodded at the young PC, who had three goes at getting the machine going before Mann took over.

  ‘Now, Mrs. Atkins, you live three doors down from the Smiths.’

  ‘I do. They’ve lived in that house for a lot of years, ten or twelve at least, and we’ve been in the street for coming up for twenty five years, me and my husband. And you get less for murder than that, don’t you?’

  Mann smiled, but only for a moment, and certainly not with his eyes.

  ‘So you know both of the Smiths?’

  ‘Oh, aye, love. I chat to him quite often, though I never saw her as much, poor lass.’

  ‘All right, good. So tell me what you saw.’

  ‘Well, on Tuesday night I went out with our dog, Buster, quite a bit later than usual. It was after eleven, actually, because I’d fallen asleep on the sofa while the news was on. It’s just so depressing, isn’ it? Anyway, when the dog woke me up like he does I looked at the clock and thought I’d better get out with him, before there was an unfortunate accident, like. And I was just on my way back, about quarter or twenty past it would have been, when I saw Jenny and this man ahead of me.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Not much really. They turned into the graveyard.’

  ‘And you were behind them the whole time, were you?

  ‘Aye, I was. They were going pretty slow, all luvvy duvvy, like, and I could see that it wasn’t Phil she was with, so I sort of held back. So they wouldn’t notice me, I suppose.’

  ‘And did they see you?’

  ‘Aye, now that you mention it the bloke did. That’s right, he sort of looked round, just as they went through the little gate into the churchyard, like.’

  ‘And could you describe him?’

  ‘No, not really. I didn’t get a right good look. Sort of normal, really.’

  ‘Normal?’

  ‘Aye. Not tall or short, fat or thin, fair or dark. Just normal, like.’

  ‘And you are certain that this man was not Mr. Smith?’

  ‘Oh aye. 100%.’

  ‘Would you recognise him again?’

  ‘Honestly, love, I don’t rightly know. But I doubt it. It was dark, you see.’

  ‘Yet you’re still quite sure that it wasn’t Mr. Smith?’

  ‘I am that, aye. I may not know who it was was, but I do know who it wasn’t, like.’

  Mann sat back. He knew, from memory, that Phil Smith had been online between 11.07 and 11.46pm, and that, based on his pattern of behaviour, the tech team was convinced that it was him. He’d visited a couple of chatrooms, checked his bank balance, and looked at some porn. It all sounded familiar enough.

  ‘Just one other question, Mrs. Atkins. Your address was called on during our house-to-house enquiries, and I see that your husband spoke to the officer. How come this wasn’t mentioned then?’

  ‘Reg was asleep while I was out. And he forgot to say that you’d been round. It was a neighbour who mentioned it to me, first thing this morning. I’m really sorry, love. I hope Reg isn’t in trouble.’

  ‘Oh, no, nothing like that. Reg isn’t in any trouble.’

  As she drove through the Lakes, gunning her new company Audi up over Dunmail Raise and past the tourists and the tractors, both Chelsea and traditional, Jane streamed the Atkins interview from her phone. Then she phoned DS Mann.

  ‘So he was seen, the likely killer, and he has to know he was, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Aye, exactly. The bloke must be shitting bricks, Jane,’ he said. ‘And I know I’m not the most sensitive of flowers, but I reckon that even I will be able to pick up that tension, or the fear or whatever, when we interview this bloke.’

  ‘Yet you didn’t get that sense of fear from the husband, Ian?’

  Mann paused, and Jane could almost see his half-smile of reluctant acceptance.

  ‘No, I didn’t, as it happens. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it though, does it? He might just have loads of self-control, or be, you know…’

  ‘A psychopath? I didn’t see any of the signs of that, did you?’

  ‘No, but….

  ‘And she’s quite clear that it wasn’t the husband she saw, isn’t she? So if it was the killer, and that has to be the most likely explanation, then Phil is in the clear. Unless you thought this woman was unreliable in any way.’

  ‘No. No, she wasn’t.’ Mann paused, and Jane already knew why. ‘I was just wondering, Jane.’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘Have we got the money to keep eyes on Mrs. Atkins? Just until we get this sorted. After all, just because she couldn’t make out the bloke doesn’t mean to say that he didn’t recognise her, does it?’

  ‘Did she ask for protection?’

  ‘No, but I was thinking….’

  ‘I’m sorry, love, but you know how it is. We just haven’t got the manpower for that. Thank the Lord that most wits have no bloody idea that they’re on their own, or no-one would ever come forward at all in cases like this. I’m sorry. And if she doesn’t actually perceive a risk…’

  ‘She’s just a harmless old granny, Jane. Of course she doesn’t see a risk.’

  ‘Point taken. Look, we’ll talk about it later, OK? Have you got uniform picking up our three likely lads?’

  ‘I have.’

  Jane braked hard and swore. She’d not get past the caravan that was still ahead of her for miles n
ow. ‘And there’s no point in holding an identity parade?’ she said. ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘I am. I reckon it would be counter-productive. She’s certain that she wouldn’t know this bloke again, so we shouldn’t take the risk, not at this stage.’

  ‘Yet she’s equally certain that it wasn’t the husband. Odd, that.’

  ‘You’re thinking that he’s leant on her? Put her up to coming forward and then lying? No, love, I didn’t get that vibe at all.’

  ‘OK, Ian. It was just a thought. See you in a bit.’

  The tourist traffic was building by the minute, and Jane’s temper was shortening by the mile. When her phone rang again she answered without even looking at the dashboard display.

  ‘DI Jane Francis.’

  ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Andy. Is everything all right, love? Is Grace OK?’

  ‘She’s fine. When were you going to tell me about Jack bloody Lee turning up in your investigation?’

  ‘Now listen, love. You’re a retired officer now, remember? I’m not allowed to discuss things like that with you.’

  ‘Really? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The ACC will be phoning you in a bit. He’s re-opening the file on the Burke case to us. For now there’s no new investigative effort planned, but at least I get my access again.’

  ‘Shit, Andy. You didn’t tell him you knew about Lee, did you? He’ll just assume that it came from me.’

  ‘No, don’t worry. Sarah has her sources, and she just spoke to the great man. I just wish you’d told me last night, that’s all.’

  She hesitated. It was impossible to tell if Hall was being passive-aggressive, or whatever it was called.

  ‘Aye, love’, she said. ‘I do too. Look, you’ve got Ray out on the plot today, haven’t you?’