by Bill Kitson
‘That’s a very good question. Didn’t you say he was supposedly taking the dog for a walk, so where is he?’
Patrick Newsome’s absence had now become highly significant.
Later, Lisa Andrews and Pearce were talking to Jack Binns, discussing what had happened at the Newsome house. ‘The place is disgusting,’ Pearce said. ‘There are all sorts of smells, none of them pleasant. It’s the sort of house where you walk across a carpet and feel it sticky underfoot. Makes you want to wipe your feet when you leave, then rush home and jump into a hot shower. I found myself itching, even after I’d done that. If I had to make a choice, I’d rather live in the motorhome than the house. It isn’t a new one by any means, but at least it’s reasonably clean; and smells a whole lot better. They can’t have had it long, otherwise I feel sure it would be in a similar state,’ he added.
‘You said you’d arrested the mother and son. What about the father?’ Jack asked.
‘No sign of him. Clara thinks he’s done a runner. We found a mobile phone belonging to Mrs Newsome. The last text she sent from it was timed just after we arrived at the house. It read “pigs at home” which we think was a warning. If so, it worked, because he seems to have vanished. Obviously, he’ll have guessed by now that we’ve found the drugs, either that or heard on the grapevine. Unless we can find out where he’s gone, and who might be harbouring him, we could be looking for a long time.’
‘Has his wife said anything?’
Pearce grinned. ‘Nothing repeatable. In between swearing at us, she claimed we’d planted the drugs. Obviously, she has no idea about police budgets. Getting hold of a few thousand pounds worth of heroin to frame her and her old man simply isn’t possible, no matter how desirable the idea might seem.’
‘Will you let Clara know, Eileen Newsome’s brief has arrived?’
Viv headed for CID and relayed the message, adding, ‘He’s here for Dwayne as well, so we’ll be able to interview both of them.’
Clara noted that Viv didn’t seem too excited by the prospect. ‘Who’s representing them?’ she asked.
Pearce saw Clara’s expression turn sour when he told her.
‘You didn’t expect anything else, did you, Clara? It stands to reason a scrote like Dwayne Newsome with a harridan of a mother like Eileen would have a devious bastard like that for a solicitor. What line do you think Eileen will take on the drugs?’
Clara considered the question. ‘She’ll say only what her brief instructs her to. I’d guess that between them they will try to shift all the blame onto her husband. With Patrick Newsome having gone AWOL, they’ve a perfect opportunity to fit him up for anything and everything from the Jack the Ripper murders onwards. If I know that slimeball who’s representing her, I’d guess he’ll instruct her to say that she lived in terror of Patrick. He’ll get her to tell stories of physical and mental cruelty, throw in abuse of Dwayne from early childhood, and claim that Eileen knew nothing of the drugs in the motorhome.’
‘That’s possibly true, but she won’t be able to get away with the shoplifting charge, not with the video evidence. That’s fairly conclusive, I’d say,’ Viv pointed out. ‘And I’m sure we can make the receiving charges stick.’
‘I’ll bet that doesn’t stop him encouraging her to try spinning a yarn. If she’s to stand a chance of making the abuse and domination charges to stick, she’ll have to make it realistic by telling us and the court, if they’ll listen, that the only reason she went into Good Buys was because Patrick bullied her into it, and that she was too afraid of what he would do to her if she refused.’
‘Surely the fact that she had an accomplice weakens that defence considerably?’
‘It might, except for the fact that unless we can find that accomplice, or Patrick, we can’t disprove Eileen’s story. Any joy in tracing either of them?’
‘Not yet, although another of the uniformed lads said he recognized the woman’s face vaguely. The problem is, the image lifted from the CCTV isn’t too clear, even though I did my best with it. The guy said he thought the woman lived on the Westlea, but he couldn’t be sure. I checked the file and interestingly enough the Newsome woman has never had any associates before. It’s too big an estate to go knocking on doors, so I’ve circulated the photo again and asked Jack to keep reminding his troops about it. As for Newsome, he seems to have vanished into thin air, and short of a chance sighting, I can’t think how we can collar him.’
‘Well we’d better get on with it,’ Clara said as she got to her feet and grabbed a pen and folder.
When they emerged from the interview room, Pearce reflected that Clara’s prediction about the line Eileen’s defence would take had been uncannily accurate. In fact, she could hardly have got closer to the mark had she scripted the interview herself.
Chapter ten
Patrick Newsome had been lucky. Lucky that he’d been out of the house when the police had come knocking on his door. The text had come as an unwelcome shock, to put it mildly. When he read the message ‘pigs at home’ his immediate reaction had been that the police had come for him. It was only later, when he’d been watching from a safe distance and seen his wife and son carted off in a police car, that he’d realized he wasn’t their initial target.
Later, overhearing the neighbours in the pub discussing the matter, he’d discovered that his wife had been the one they were after as the woman who’d nicked a load of groceries from the local supermarket. Dwayne, the stupid bastard, had been identified and arrested in connection with a string of burglaries, purely by chance, it seemed. Patrick cursed his nearest, but not dearest. How could they be so thick? The temptation to steal had been too much for them and in doing so they had threatened his prime source of income. To say Patrick was furious would be the understatement of the year.
Now he had to consider his options and the more he thought about them, the bleaker they seemed. First things first, he had to find somewhere to go, where he and his dog, could hole up without fear of discovery. Thinking of his dog provided a possible answer. He knew Sharon would like her. Sharon loved dogs. Within hours of the raid, as his wife and son were staring at the bleak cell walls of Helmsdale police station, Patrick had left town and travelled to Bishopton.
He hoped Sharon would be alone. She hadn’t taken up with anyone else that he knew about since her partner’s death. Patrick had never liked the man Sharon had lived with, partly through jealousy perhaps. He’d always considered Sharon as his, even after he’d married Eileen. Which was a little churlish, but the news that the man had died in prison a couple of years back certainly hadn’t upset Patrick.
From time to time since then, especially when his family infuriated him by their stupidity, Patrick had considered leaving, abandoning Eileen and Dwayne, and moving in with Sharon. He’d resisted, up to press – apart from the occasional visit. Now the idea was far more appealing. He had little doubt that Sharon would accept him. He had something he thought she would want. But then he’d known Sharon a long time.
The council estate, or as they were now called, social housing clusters, was situated on the west of Bishopton, in the low-lying land close to the River Helm. The estate was far smaller than the Westlea and, for the most part, the houses were better kept. Patrick walked to the last house on the row where the estate ended and the pastures used for grazing sheep began. He smiled; his dog would be in her element here. He knocked on the door and stepped back. He knew that before opening it, Sharon would be looking to see who her visitor was from behind the net curtain at her lounge window.
He heard the chain rattle, then the door opened. ‘Hello, stranger. I wondered if I might be seeing you, sooner or later.’ She glanced down at the dog. ‘This your partner in crime, then? You’d better come in before any of the nosey bastards round here see you.’
She opened the door wide, then, as soon as they were inside, slammed it shut, replaced the chain and slid the bolts for good measure. She turned and looked at her visitor. ‘Well, go on then, tell
me all about it? What’s the slag and your dopey son been up to? And, come to that, what have you been up to?’
Patrick began to explain, marvelling at how she already knew about the arrests. There wasn’t much got past Sharon. She ought to have been a spy. As he spoke, Patrick watched her carefully. She hadn’t changed much in all the time he’d known her. A little bit broader in the beam perhaps, and maybe the breasts weren’t quite as pert as they had been, but she was still a handsome-looking woman, even though she was well on the shady side of forty. Her hair had always been one of Sharon’s specialities. Different styles, different shades. Over the years there had been too many changes to count. Now, she’d let it grow to shoulder length and the colour, Patrick, who was no expert, could only think of as damson. But then, fruit wasn’t his speciality either.
She listened to his story, wondering how the man she’d known for so long had ended up in such a mess. Her mouth hardened with anger as she identified the reason; Eileen, the greedy, grasping, cold-hearted slut he’d been stupid enough to marry. He’d married her in a fit of temper after he and Sharon had fallen out; a stupid row. Before they’d had chance to make up, he’d taken off and married that bitch.
When he’d finished his tale of woe, Sharon sat looking at him for a moment. ‘It strikes me the cops might be the least of your worries. If your sponsors get wind of what’s been going on, they might get concerned about what you and the slag know about their operations. They sound like the sort of people who wouldn’t take too kindly to publicity and might be prepared to take decisive action if they felt the threat of exposure. And I doubt the slag will sit there quietly and take the rap for everyone else. As for the thicko, what do you call him, Dwayne is it? I take it you haven’t been daft enough to tell him anything about the drugs?’
‘Neither of them knows anything. I may be daft but I’m not fucking stupid. All Eileen knows is that we drive to the coast, pick up a parcel, and then deliver it.’
‘You know that, but do the people you’re working for know it? If not, they might direct their attention towards you.’ Sharon accompanied her words with a bloodthirsty gesture, drawing her index finger across her throat. ‘If I was you, I’d find somewhere safe to stay, well out of the way until the heat dies down. I certainly wouldn’t consider running to them for help.’
None of which cheered Patrick up in the slightest.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ he agreed gloomily. ‘The problem is I’ve nowhere to go, not with the dog. Nowhere safe, that is. Unless – I don’t suppose you’d risk putting me up for a day or two, would you? Just until I figure out what’s best to do.’
Sharon stood up and stretched, giving Patrick an excellent view of her figure. She walked round the kitchen table to face him and leaned over him. She took hold of one of his hands and tugged it gently round her waist. She placed both her hands on his shoulders and began to move, slowly, rhythmically, suggestively. When she spoke, her voice was husky. ‘Stay as long as you want. Do you know how long I’ve had to go without you? Damn near twenty-three fucking years! Or twenty-three non-fucking years, to be precise. If you stay here you’ll have to put that right. Do that for me and I’ll shelter you and the dog, no matter what the risk. Now, I suppose I’d better nip to the shops and pick up some dog food. You stay out of sight whilst I’m gone.’
She picked up her purse from the kitchen worktop and walked over to the door. Before unfastening the chain, she looked back and grinned. ‘Upstairs would be the safest place to hide.’
The day following PC Riley’s funeral, Clara arrived at the station before 7 a.m., but despite that, Sergeant Binns was already on duty. ‘I thought I’d better get an early start,’ he told her, ‘I know both Nuisances are due in court this morning, so there’s a lot to do.’
‘How did yesterday go?’
‘About as bad as you’d expect. Maureen was almost hysterical, but that was only to be expected. Fortunately her family was out in force, so there was plenty of physical and moral support for her and the son. Poor lad was completely baffled by everything that went on. I don’t suppose the significance will dawn on him until his father doesn’t return.’
‘ She comes from a big family then?’
‘Her father is chairman, and one of her brothers is in charge of furniture and fine art auctions, over at the auctioneers at Broughton-On-Helm. Her cousin runs the farm sales, and she has another brother who is head gamekeeper to Lord Slingsby-Darrow. His lordship was also in attendance yesterday, together with all his brood.’
‘There was a big turnout then?’
‘Oh yes, Broughton church was full to overflowing. A lot had to stay outside. I think that might be of some comfort to Maureen when she thinks about it later on, because it showed the respect people had for Geoff. As for me, well, it was good to see old Lord “slings and arrows” and Maureen’s cousins without having to caution them or threaten them with a cell overnight. It shows how even the wildest bunch can settle down given time.’
‘You had some bother with them when they were young then?’ Clara was fascinated by this glimpse into the less reputable past of certain prominent locals.
‘A fair bit, but most of it was relatively harmless. More youthful exuberance than vindictiveness, and usually fuelled by large quantities of beer. The trick was to nip it in the bud before it got out of hand. The problem was, if you did happen to upset one of them you’d have the whole pack of them down on you like a ton of bricks. And before you knew it, you’d have a battle royal on your hands.’
‘How did Lord Slingsby-Darrow fit into the picture?’
Binns gave her a sly grin. ‘The oldest way in the book. He’d been giving one of Maureen’s cousins a good seeing to from the time they were both sixteen, if not before. Eventually, of course, the inevitable happened and he put her up the stick, but to give him his due, he did the honourable thing and married her. They’ve been married over twenty years now, and judging by the gathering of young slings and arrows on display yesterday, she must have been popping them out every two years or so. Mind you, I reckon they’re still as keen on one another as they were when they were kids, judging by the way they were holding hands.’
‘Jack, you are without doubt, the Dale’s biggest gossip.’ Clara smiled. Then added a sober note, ‘Did anyone mention the murder, or was that subject taboo for the day?’
‘That’s a rather odd thing. Nobody said a thing, apart from the vicar in his eulogy. I expected them to and I was dreading it to be honest, although I’d rehearsed my answers to some questions I thought might be asked, but nobody did.’
Clara saw him frown. ‘What is it, Jack?’
‘The more I think about it, the more it worries me. For them not to ask anything whatsoever about the investigation simply isn’t natural. I know these people, and I’m concerned they might believe they can deal with this their own way.’
‘You think if it was poachers, then they might know who shot Geoff Riley?’
‘No, not for certain. I mean, they might suspect someone, they might even have drawn up a short-list, but they can’t know for definite. Any more than we can.’
‘Why are you worried then?’
‘Put it this way, three of them are landowners, another is a gamekeeper, and a couple are farmers. They’re far more likely to have a good idea who might be involved in poaching around this area than we are. What concerns me, is if they did discover anything more definite, or if they thought they knew who killed Geoff, and if they believed the culprit might get away with it for lack of solid evidence, the sort that would stand up in court, they could be tempted to, well, take matters into their own hands, and that would be really bad news.’
‘I think it would be a good idea if you were to have a quiet word with one or two of them, don’t you? A gentle sort of warning that if any of the poaching fraternity suddenly turn up riddled with twelve bore pellets, we’ll know where to come looking.’
‘I’ll do that.’
Binns changed th
e subject. ‘What happened about those packets found in that mobile home? Did they contain drugs? Forensics should have come back with results by now.’
Clara laughed. ‘You haven’t read your charge sheets yet this morning. Eileen Newsome’s got far more to worry about than mere shoplifting, especially if her husband doesn’t turn up to share the blame. The parcels contained over two hundred thousand pounds worth of heroin at today’s prices. Which means, she’s now facing charges of possession with intent to supply. Patrick Newsome appears to have done a runner. You don’t happen to have an idea where we might find him, do you?’
‘Sorry, no, Patrick isn’t exactly one of my close social circle. Come to think of it, I don’t think he’s much in demand in any social scene. He has one or two boozing mates on the Westlea, but that’s about all. I’ll have a word with my lads and see if they can come up with some names. If there is anyone on his calling list, I feel sure they’ll be known to us.’
Clara went into CID and began to go through the files stacked on the desk. She settled to her task, feeling more cheerful than she had for some time. This was partly the result of a phone call the previous evening from her fiancé, David. He’d reported that he was safe and well and that he was well clear of any danger zones. The operation he had been on had been completed and he and his men were resting up, awaiting further orders.
As she tackled the files, Clara’s optimistic mood brightened further. The other reason for her cheerful frame of mind lay in the reports she had received from the various technical support officers tasked with examining evidence supplied following their raid on the Newsome house. Those results would be sufficient to prove their case against Dwayne Newsome. The hoodie he had been wearing had been tested and what might prove to be a vital piece of evidence taken from it. It was hair, and it definitely did not belong to Dwayne. If the hair could be matched to a recent mugging victim, there would be a further charge to add to the list.
