Taken to Die: A chilling crime thriller (DCI Danny Flint Book 4)

by Trevor Negus

  38

  10.30pm, 10 October 1986

  Richmond Drive, Mapperley Park, Nottinghamshire

  Sam Jamieson was enjoying his late-night run through Mapperley Park.

  The incessant rain that had fallen steadily all day had finally eased. The roads were quiet and still. There wasn’t a soul about. He had run his usual route, which took him along Richmond Drive and up the hill towards Mapperley Plains. He had then turned back, running down the hill, along Mapperley Hall Drive. He always ran along Richmond Drive on the way back as well. He liked to keep an eye on the house owned by Rebecca Whitchurch.

  As he jogged steadily down Mapperley Hall Drive, he could see a vehicle approaching, coming up the hill. The vehicle was a dark-coloured Volvo, and it was being driven very slowly.

  At first, he wondered if it was an unmarked police car. He slowed his pace a little and saw the vehicle being driven onto Richmond Drive. As the vehicle turned into Richmond Drive, he could see the occupants. The driver was a dark-haired woman. The front-seat passenger was male. There was something about this man that he thought he recognised. He watched as the Volvo came to a stop in the black shadows.

  He slowed to a walk and crept towards the parked car.

  The couple inside were locked in a steamy embrace, kissing passionately. They broke away from each other for a second, and Sam suddenly realised why the passenger looked familiar. It was Dominic Whitchurch.

  It was Whitchurch alright, and the woman he was kissing so passionately was definitely not his wife, Rebecca.

  He bent down, pretending to tie the shoelace of one of his training shoes, and said under his breath, ‘Well, well, well, who’s a naughty boy, then?’

  He made a mental note of the make and registration number of the car, then stood up and began jogging back down Mapperley Hall Drive. He decided not to run along Richmond Drive towards the Whitchurch house, as he didn’t want to be seen by the lovers in the car.

  It was just as well. His presence, and a detailed description of him, had already been noted once that night, by the team of Special Operations Unit officers hidden in the dense bushes in the garden opposite the Whitchurch house.

  From their position, the officers carrying out the observations hadn’t got a clear view of the vehicle that had dropped off Dominic Whitchurch. All they noted was that the vehicle was a dark-coloured estate.

  39

  9.30am, 11 October 1986

  Nottinghamshire Police Headquarters

  Danny Flint remained in the main car park at headquarters.

  He had contacted Detective Chief Superintendent Potter, by telephone, at nine o’clock that morning and requested an urgent meeting. He wanted to update Potter, in person, that there had been major developments surrounding the missing schoolgirl, Emily Whitchurch.

  Now that he was at headquarters, he felt a growing sense of unease. He’d never felt comfortable attending briefings at the command level. At least when he was here to speak to Bill Wainwright, he knew he would be received well and treated with respect.

  With Adrian Potter in charge, he knew that would no longer be the case.

  He steeled himself, got out of his car, and walked into the main headquarters building.

  He walked straight upstairs and stood outside Potter’s office.

  He paused for a moment before politely knocking on the door.

  A voice shouted, ‘Enter!’

  Danny walked in, closed the door behind him and stood in front of Potter’s desk.

  ‘Sit down, Chief Inspector.’

  As soon as Danny had taken a seat, Potter said abruptly, ‘Well? What was so important and sensitive that it couldn’t be dealt with on the telephone?’

  Danny took a deep breath to control his already-rising temper. He said evenly, ‘There’s been a major development in the missing schoolgirl case you ordered the MCIU to look at, sir.’

  A mocking smirk passed over Potter’s face. ‘Don’t tell me: Those amazing detectives on the MCIU have found her already.’

  Ignoring the senior officer’s derisory tone, Danny said, ‘No, sir, the girl hasn’t been found. What you need to know is this: Yesterday a ransom note was hand-delivered to Emily Whitchurch’s home address. A demand has been made for a quarter of a million pounds for her safe return. The note intimated that if the ransom wasn’t paid, the girl would be killed.’

  The sly smirk on Potter’s face instantly disappeared as he realised the seriousness of the situation.

  ‘I see. What have you done about it?’

  Now it was Danny’s turn to stifle a half smile.

  He recognised the look on Potter’s face. It was fear. The man was obviously a long way from his comfort zone and was terrified.

  Danny quickly ran through what the MCIU had been doing since the ransom note was received. He outlined his plan, which he hoped would achieve the safe return of the girl and the capture of the kidnapper or kidnappers.

  At the conclusion of his briefing, and to test his theory about Potter, Danny asked, ‘Can you think of anything we haven’t covered, sir?’

  Potter blustered: ‘No, I don’t think so. You seem to have everything in hand. Have you spoken to the chief constable about this yet?’

  ‘No, sir, not yet.’

  Potter’s eyes lit up. ‘Good. I’ll brief him personally. I know he always likes to hear bad news immediately. I don’t see any reason to detain you here any longer, Chief Inspector. From what you’ve just told me, I’m sure you’ve got plenty to be getting on with.’

  Danny stood up to leave. As he reached the door, Potter said, ‘By the way, Chief Inspector, I’m still waiting for those breakdowns I asked you for. Don’t let this little enquiry get in the way of preparing those. It’s in your department’s best interests that I see the financial viability of the MCIU at the earliest opportunity. Personally, I’m still of the opinion that the detectives on the Unit should be integrated back in to the divisional CID strength. After all, serious crime only ever accounts for one percent of all reported crime.’

  Danny turned to face Potter. With a voice full of suppressed anger and frustration, he said, ‘I don’t believe this. In case you weren’t listening, I’m rather preoccupied at the moment, sir. There’s a missing girl out there somewhere, whose life may well be in danger, and all you’re concerned about is the most cost-effective way to utilise resources. What sort of a police officer are you?’

  ‘I appreciate that you’re under a little pressure, so I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that little outburst, Chief Inspector. I think the clock’s ticking on the existence of the MCIU. I suggest you find this girl.’

  Danny slammed the door behind him and stalked out of the building, back to the car park. He wasn’t stupid; he realised that Adrian Potter had totally outflanked him.

  He knew that by the time Detective Chief Superintendent Potter had finished briefing the chief constable, all the plans and enquiries Danny had instigated would have suddenly become Potter’s ideas.

  Whatever happened in the future, Danny seriously doubted that he could ever have a meaningful working relationship with the arrogant little Yorkshireman.

  40

  10.00am, 11 October 1986

  Elm Bank, Sherwood Rise, Nottingham

  ‘It’s that one, Rachel.’

  Brian Hopkirk pointed to the large Victorian house, set back from the road, on Elm Bank.

  Rachel parked the car outside the house and switched off the engine. ‘What’s the number of the flat?’

  Brian looked at his notepad and replied, ‘Number two. It’s a ground-floor flat, rented by Florin Chirilov. It looks more like a bedsit than a flat to me. Let’s go.’

  The two detectives walked up the garden path to the front door of the property. Like most houses of multi-occupancy, this one had a large intercom system that showed individual flat numbers. There were twelve flats in the building. Brian ran his finger down the board until he came to Flat Two.

  He pressed the button and waited
.

  There was a crackling noise from the speaker; then a woman’s voice said, ‘Hello?’

  Rachel spoke into the intercom. ‘Alina Moraru?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My name’s Detective Constable Moore. I need to ask you a few questions about Emily Whitchurch.’

  The woman’s voice sounded worried. ‘I’ve already spoken to the police about that.’

  Rachel persisted, ‘This won’t take long, Alina. Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble.’

  There was a loud buzzing sound as the automatic door lock opened. Brian pushed on the door, and it opened.

  The two detectives walked into a spacious hallway. There were four flats on the ground floor. One of the doors on the right of the hallway opened slightly. A young woman, wearing a coffee-coloured robe, stood in the doorway.

  Rachel said, ‘Alina?’

  The woman nodded.

  ‘Can we step inside, please? This will only take a few minutes, and I don’t want your neighbours to hear us talking.’

  Alina nodded again and said, in a voice that was barely a whisper, ‘This is my boyfriend’s flat. He’s still in bed.’

  Rachel and Brian followed Alina, stepping inside a large room. It was a bedsit, not a flat. There was a large double bed in one corner of the room. A double settee in front of a coffee table, facing a small television on a stand. One end of the room had a table, two chairs, a microwave oven and a fridge. The room stank of cigarettes, dirty clothes and fried food. There were piles of unwashed clothes on the floor, and dirty pots in the small sink.

  Alina started to gather up the clothes and said apologetically, ‘Please excuse the mess. I’m going to the launderette later today.’

  Rachel smiled and said kindly, ‘Don’t worry about the clothes, Alina.’

  She flashed a nervous smile back and said, ‘Please, sit down.’

  As the two detectives sat down on the wooden chairs next to the table, there was a stirring in the double bed, and a man with long black hair sat up.

  As he looked, open-mouthed, at the strangers in his bedsit, Alina said, ‘Don’t be angry, Florin; they’re detectives. They want to ask me about the Whitchurch girl.’

  Florin snarled, ‘Why did you let them in? Idiot!’

  Rachel said, ‘Florin Chirilov, I presume? This won’t take long. It’s just a few questions.’

  Florin Chirilov stared at Rachel, then said, ‘Ask what you want. Alina’s done nothing wrong. She’s a good girl.’

  He reached over to the small bedside table, grabbed his cigarette packet, took one out and lit up. Inhaling the first drag deeply, he leaned back against the headboard and blew smoke towards the ceiling. He looked totally disinterested, a sullen expression on his face.

  Alina sat on the edge of the settee with her body turned towards the detectives.

  Rachel said, ‘How long were you working for the Whitchurch family?’

  ‘Not long. About three months.’

  ‘Did you enjoy your job?’

  ‘I loved my job.’

  ‘Tell me what happened the day Emily went missing?’

  ‘It was like every other day. After dropping Emily off at her school, I returned to Richmond Drive and did all the washing and cleaning at the house. Once I had finished all my work, I drove here to see my boyfriend. After spending time here, I drove back to the school to pick her up. She never arrived.’

  ‘We know you weren’t at the school. Where had you arranged to meet Emily?’

  ‘I always met her at the same place, Alpha Terrace.’

  ‘Why didn’t you meet her outside the school gates, as arranged?’

  ‘Emily refused to meet me there. She complained that my car was too scruffy. It’s not my fault the car is small and scruffy. It’s all I can afford.’

  From the bed, Florin said under his breath, ‘The girl’s a spoilt brat, with no manners!’

  Picking up on the expression used by Florin to describe Emily, Brian said quietly to Alina, ‘I noticed you didn’t refer to Emily by name earlier. Didn’t you like her?’

  Alina was close to tears. ‘I tried my best to like her, but Emily’s a horrible girl. She was always very rude to me, calling me names and being nasty. She made me park away from the school, ridiculing me in front of her two friends. I had to do what she said if I wanted to keep my job. None of this is my fault, Detective. I was always pleasant to Emily.’

  Florin snarled angrily, ‘That’s enough! I won’t have Alina upset like this. No more questions. None of this is her fault. You should be talking to the brat’s big-shot lawyer parents. They’re the ones who raised a devil child. I want you to leave my flat. Now!’

  Brian said, ‘You need to calm down, Mr Chirilov. Nobody’s accusing Alina of anything. We need to find this young girl, and anything she can tell us is going to help. Okay?’

  Florin grunted something unintelligible and resumed smoking.

  Rachel carried on, ‘Alina, what can you tell us about Emily? Did she have a boyfriend?’

  ‘I don’t think she had a regular boyfriend. She was always talking about sex though. She’s still a child, but she always wanted to act like a grown woman. She always said to me that she liked older men and would never go out with a schoolboy.’

  ‘Did she have many friends at school?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘What about the girls you mentioned earlier? The ones you say she ridiculed you in front of?’

  ‘You mean Polly and Rosie. They aren’t real friends. I can see they only tolerate Emily. She’s just too nasty with everyone.’

  ‘Okay. Is there anything else you think we should know?’

  Alina looked troubled and glanced at Florin.

  Florin said tersely, ‘Tell them!’

  Alina said quietly, ‘She was always talking about drugs. Bragging about how she loved getting high. She even asked me if Florin could get her some cannabis to smoke.’

  Florin said indignantly, ‘I have never done drugs. I hate drugs.’

  Alina continued, ‘I should have told her parents, but I was too scared of them.’

  Brian asked, ‘Why were you scared of them?’

  ‘I was scared because they’re powerful people. Don’t misunderstand me; they were always civil towards me. I could always tell that they didn’t really want me in their house, even though I did everything for them. I couldn’t tell them about their only daughter wanting to smoke drugs. They would have dismissed me straight away.’

  Rachel said, ‘Just one last question, Alina. What do you think has happened to Emily?’

  Tears began to fall down the Romanian woman’s cheeks. She said tearfully, ‘I honestly don’t know. I’m so scared for Emily. She’s still a child, but wants to be a woman so badly. She’s her own worst enemy; she knows nothing of the world.’

  ‘Okay, thanks. Try not to get upset. If you think of anything else, will you call me, please?’ Rachel fished inside her handbag and handed a card to her.

  Alina nodded.

  Florin said angrily, ‘Is that it? Are you done? I want you to leave now, please.’

  Alina opened the door to the flat, and as the two detectives walked out, Florin shouted, ‘You should be looking at the brat’s fucking parents! This is all their fault, and they blame my girl. They are big-shot bastards!’

  The door to the bedsit closed behind them, and the detectives could hear continued raised voices from inside.

  Rachel said, ‘Do you think we should go back in there?’

  Brian listened to the raised voices and said, ‘No, it’s okay. He’s venting against us, not her. He’s very protective of Alina, but he’s got a bit of a temper on him. I think I’ll do a little more digging into Florin Chirilov. I’m guessing he’s no fan of the police.’

  41

  12.30pm, 11 October 1986

  Mulberry Chambers, The Ropewalk, Nottingham

  Sebastien Dawson was waiting for the two detectives at the rear entrance of Mulberry Chambers.

&n
bsp; Detective Sergeant Andy Wills and Detective Constable Simon Paine had been sent to check through all the previous cases handled by Rebecca and Dominic Whitchurch. Their job was to read through the files and ascertain if there were any possible leads within them that might identify the person or persons responsible for the disappearance of Emily Whitchurch.

  The overweight barrister’s clerk shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, trying to distribute his enormous bulk evenly. He wasn’t used to standing still for long periods, but he didn’t want to risk the two detectives being seen by any of the legal staff.

  He had prepared one of the meeting rooms, nearest to the back door, to accommodate them while they trawled through the old files.

  Finally, the two detectives walked into the rear car park. They had parked their vehicle, as instructed, two streets away.

  Dawson acknowledged them: ‘Wills and Paine?’

  Andy Wills said, ‘I’m DS Wills, and this is DC Paine. Mr Dawson, is it?’

  ‘Sebastien, please.’

  He held the rear door open and said, ‘I’ve organised a room just inside, so you won’t be disturbed. I’ve put all the files in the room. I’ve placed them in order, so the most recent cases are at the top of the respective piles. I’ve also made a third pile that I consider to be the most promising for the type of thing you might be looking for. Cases that were particularly nasty, where threats were made towards Rebecca or Dominic, and where the subjects have recently been released from a custodial sentence.’

  ‘That’s very thorough, Sebastien, thank you. Hopefully, we won’t be here too long.’

  ‘I need to ask you a big favour, Sergeant. Could I ask that you remain in the room provided, please? I don’t want to answer any awkward questions from the staff as to why we have two detectives trawling through our old case files.’

  Andy could see the discomfort that question had caused the barrister’s clerk, so he smiled benignly and said, ‘Of course, no problem.’