by Trevor Negus
85
10.30am, 18 October 1986
Cavendish Road East, The Park, Nottingham
Thirty minutes had ticked slowly by before a taxi pulled up outside Freddie Fletcher’s flat.
As the front door opened, Glen Lorimar said, ‘Here we go. Looks like our man’s on the move.’
Fletcher had changed his clothes. He was now wearing dirty jeans and an old maroon-coloured sweatshirt. A navy-blue baseball cap covered his blonde hair. He was carrying a brown leather grip bag with the word ADIDAS emblazoned on the side in gold letters.
Rob said, ‘Start the car. Let’s see where he’s going.’
As the dark green city taxi pulled away from the kerb, Glen eased the CID car behind it. He deliberately hung back a little, in case Fletcher was looking around him.
Rob said, ‘Take it easy; don’t get too close. I don’t want him to see us.’
A brief five-minute ride across the city ended when the taxi’s nearside indicator came on, and it was driven to a stop on Cranmer Street, not far from the Forest Road cemetery.
Rob said, ‘Pull in here.’
Glen manoeuvred the CID car behind another parked vehicle.
Cranmer Street was a tree-lined road, with large houses that had been mainly converted into flats. At one time, it would have been a very salubrious area of the city to live in. Now it was a dump. At night, the street became a regular haunt for girls working the vice trade.
The taxi had stopped outside a large house that was in a sorry state of neglect and disrepair. The gardens had been left to run wild and were now so overgrown that it was difficult to see the front of the house. The parts of the house that could be seen were a total mess. Glass in the windows had long since disappeared. What paint there had been on the window frames had peeled away, and the frames were now rotting. The roof was missing all the lead flashing, a target for thieves soon after the house became empty. Many of the grey slate roof tiles were also missing, exposing the bare wood of the roof trusses.
Fletcher got out of the taxi. He leaned back in through the front window and paid the driver. The taxi drove away, leaving Fletcher on the quiet street, holding the brown leather bag.
Twenty-five yards away, the two detectives slunk down in the seats of their vehicle as Fletcher looked around him.
Rob whispered, ‘What’s he doing in this shithole?’
Glen replied, ‘And what’s in that bag?’
The street was empty. As soon as the young barrister was satisfied he wasn’t being watched from the neighbouring houses, he opened the rusting gate into the garden of the derelict house and walked in.
Rob and Glen immediately got out of their vehicle and followed Fletcher. They watched him walk to the rear of the property. They followed, being careful not to disturb any of the overgrown vegetation and make a noise.
At the back of the house, Fletcher stopped in front of a wooden cover that protected the cellar. There was a gleaming new padlock securing the cellar cover. From behind bushes in the rear garden, the two detectives looked on as Fletcher removed a key from his jeans pocket and opened the padlock. He took one last look around him, then flung back the two wooden covers and climbed down into the cellar.
Rob whispered, ‘Let’s get closer. I want to get hold of him when he comes back out. What the hell’s down that cellar?’
Both detectives were already daring to think the missing girl could be being held captive in that cellar.
86
10.45am, 18 October 1986
Forest Road East, Nottingham
The regional crime squad surveillance team were still doggedly following Brandon Temple as he raced through the city streets on his Suzuki motorcycle.
Mike One was directly behind Temple. He spoke over the radio using the usual surveillance technique of repeating directions. ‘Target has now turned right onto Gregory Boulevard, at the goose fair island. Repeat, it’s a right right onto Gregory Boulevard. Mike Two, are you in a position to take the eyeball?’
‘From Mike Two, I’ll be behind you in twenty seconds. I’m just turning onto Gregory Boulevard now.’
Listening to the commentary in his own vehicle, DS Travers said on the radio, ‘Charlie One to team, close in. Let’s all close up now.’
‘From Mike Two, I now have the eyeball. It’s a left left on to Noel Street, stand by.’
There was a pause.
‘From Mike Two, target vehicle is now through the traffic lights and onto Mount Hooton Road, towards Forest Road East. It’s a left left onto Forest Road East. Target vehicle is slowing, I’m going past. Can anybody behind me take the eyeball?’
‘From Charlie Two, we’re behind you and in position to slow with the target vehicle. Stand by.’
Another pause.
‘From Charlie Two, target vehicle slowed opposite a row of derelict garages on Forest Road East. Rider was clocking the garages. Target vehicle didn’t stop, just slowed right down. I now have an offside indication on the target vehicle. It’s a right right onto Addison Street and a right right again onto Baker Street. Going past. Baker Street’s a dead end, putting a footman down. Stand by.’
There was a pause as the passenger in Charlie Two got out of the car and sprinted back to the junction of Addison Street and Baker Street.
‘From DC Ryan, I’ve now got eyeball on the target. He’s parked his motorbike and is removing the white bag of groceries from the top box. Helmet off and into top box. He’s secured the top box and applied the steering lock on the bike. He’s on foot and walking back towards Addison Street. Any other foot officers down?’
DS Travers had already got out of Charlie One and was waiting at a bus stop on the junction of Addison Street and Forest Road East.
‘From DS Travers, I’m out and have the eyeball. Suspect is walking back towards Forest Road East. He’s in possession of the white carrier bag containing the water and sandwiches he bought at the services. All units, stand by.’
There was a longer pause.
‘From DS Travers, suspect has entered one of the garages on Forest Road East. Maintain your positions. I’ve got eyeball on the garage and will give the off when he comes out again. Stand by.’
While he maintained observations on the derelict garage, DS Travers used the other radio to contact DI Hopkirk.
Speaking clearly, he quickly informed Brian of his location and informed him that Brandon Temple had disappeared into a derelict garage, carrying food and water.
Brian was with Rachel and Stacey Bloom, about to enter the Peel Street entrance to the caves. He stopped at the entrance and said to Stacey, ‘Is it possible there are other entrances to the cave system from Forest Road East itself?’
Stacey Bloom nodded. ‘Yes, it’s possible. The mine workings were accessed from lots of places in this area. Over the years, most of these entrances have become hidden.’
Brian said, ‘I think we should travel to Forest Road East; officers have followed a suspect into a derelict garage on that road. There’s no real reason why anybody would want to go in those garages. Will you come with us, Stacey?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Back at the MCIU offices in Mansfield, Danny was also listening intently to the radio signals. He’d heard enough. Turning to Andy, he said, ‘Come on, Andy, grab your car keys. We’re going to the city. The meeting with Potter will just have to wait. Something’s developing down there.’
87
10.45am, 18 October 1986
Cranmer Street, Nottingham
Rob and Glen had moved in closer and now had a clear view of the cellar cover as they waited for Freddie Fletcher to re-emerge. After a five-minute wait, Fletcher climbed out of the cellar. He was no longer in possession of the brown leather Adidas bag.
Rob waited for him to secure the padlock, then stepped forward. ‘Hello, Mr Fletcher. What’s down the cellar?’
Totally surprised at the sudden appearance of the detectives, Fletcher blustered, ‘What? I don’t understand. Why are y
ou here?’
Glen said, ‘We thought you might be home today, and we wanted to find out why you lied to us when we spoke to you in Manchester.’
Fletcher smiled. ‘Oh, that. Don’t worry, I can explain everything.’
Rob said, ‘Start by explaining what’s in the cellar.’
The smile disappeared. Fletcher said, ‘There’s nothing down there. The house belongs to a mate. I’m just keeping an eye on it.’
Glen growled, ‘Give me the padlock key. Now!’
Surprised by the venom in the detective’s voice, Fletcher handed over the key for the padlock.
As Glen bent down to unlock the cellar cover, Rob said, ‘Let’s all go and have a look, shall we? Is the Whitchurch girl down here, Fletcher?’
Fletcher said, ‘What? No, of course she isn’t. You’re wasting your time, Detective. There’s nothing in the cellar.’
‘In that case, it won’t take us long to have a look, will it?’
The three men stepped back down into the cellar. The only light was the sunlight filtering down through the open hatch. In the corner of the cellar, there was a large hole in the wall.
Glen walked over and inspected the hole in the wall. He said, ‘Bloody hell! There’s a small cave through here.’
Rob gripped Fletcher’s arm and walked him towards the hole in the wall.
Fletcher blurted out, ‘I didn’t know that was there.’
As his eyes became accustomed to the low light in the cave, Rob could see the brown leather holdall just inside the cave entrance.
‘How did that bag get in there, then?’
Fletcher smiled a sly grin. ‘I’ve never seen that bag before.’
Glen snarled, ‘Don’t be a dickhead, Fletcher. You’re not wearing gloves; your fingerprints will be all over the bag. The taxi driver who brought you here will have remembered you and the bag. Not to mention the two well-respected and honest detectives who have watched you carry it out of your flat, into the taxi and then into here.’
Rob said, ‘What’s inside the bag, Fletcher?’
Realising he had been backed into a corner, the young barrister started a damage-limitation strategy. ‘Look, it’s not much. It’s for personal use. I knew at some stage you would want to search my flat. So I moved it here.’
Rob indicated for Glen to look in the bag. The burly detective took out a pair of white latex gloves from his pocket and carefully picked up the bag, avoiding the handles.
The three men walked out of the cave, through the cellar, and back outside into the garden. Glen placed the bag on the floor and carefully eased the zip open.
Looking inside, he saw three medium-sized, clear plastic bags full of white powder.
He turned to Fletcher and said, ‘That’s a lot of personal use. Quite a habit you’ve got.’
Fletcher didn’t answer.
Rob indicated the bags of powder and said, ‘Exactly what’s your poison?’
A crestfallen Fletcher said, ‘You’ll find out anyway. It’s cocaine. I got hooked on the stuff while I was studying at Cambridge. I had to lie to you about the time I arrived at Fiskerton for the bridge club. I was late because my dealer hadn’t arrived on time. I didn’t have time to change my clothes after I’d met him at Hyson Green to take delivery. I drove to my flat, dumped the gear under my bed and drove straight to Fiskerton. What you see there will keep me going for almost six months. I promise you I’m not a dealer. I need it to function properly.’
‘You must have known that we would check your alibi, and that lying to us would make us suspect you even more.’
‘I knew that. I just needed time to get rid of the drugs before you came to search the flat. I knew you would want to search after what that ditzy secretary from Mulberry told you. I knew if you found the gear beneath my bed, it would be the end of my career.’
Rob shook his head and said, ‘Frederick Fletcher, I’m arresting you on suspicion of possession of a Class A drug, namely cocaine.’
He cautioned the barrister as he placed him in handcuffs, then said, ‘Come on, let’s get you to Central Police Station.’
Rob held onto Fletcher’s arm as they walked back through the overgrown garden. Glen followed behind, carrying the brown leather grip bag.
As they reached the CID car, Freddie Fletcher began to weep.
88
10.55am, 18 October 1986
Caves below Forest Road East, Nottingham
Emily heard him coming and shone her Maglite torch up at the ceiling. She watched him as he arrived at the entrance to the pot cave. He would normally get down into the pot cave, but today he remained in the tunnel. From where she was sitting, she couldn’t see his face, just the lower half of his body, as he squatted down.
He threw the food and water down into the pot cave and said, ‘Make it last. It’s the last you’ll be getting from me.’
A shocked Emily said, ‘What do you mean? Are you letting me go?’
‘Things have changed. They didn’t learn their lesson. So, now you’ll have to stay here.’
‘I don’t understand; what lesson? Who didn’t?’
‘Your father and my wife.’
‘I don’t know you or your wife. What’s this got to do with me?’
‘This isn’t a debate! You’re staying here to die. That’s the only way your feckless father will understand true loss.’
‘You can’t leave me here. I’m begging you. Please.’
The man had already started to walk away.
Emily shouted, ‘Come back! Please!’
There were loud splashes as lumps of the sandstone roof began to fall into the water she was sitting in.
Realising it was her shouting causing the unstable roof to fall, she fell silent. A muted, wretched sobbing began emanating from her tightly pressed lips.
89
11.10am, 18 October 1986
Forest Road East, Nottingham
Rachel parked the car on Addison Street, near to its junction with Baker Street. As soon as they arrived, Brian got out of the car and walked over to DC Ryan. He was now listening intently to the surveillance officers’ radio.
Suddenly, it crackled back into life. ‘From DS Travers, suspect is now leaving the garage. He’s walking along Forest Road East towards Addison Street. Everyone in position?’
Brian spoke on the radio: ‘This is DI Hopkirk. Has the suspect still got the bag of food with him?’
DS Travers replied, ‘Negative. He no longer has the bag of food and water.’
‘Right. I’m going to intercept him at his vehicle. I’m going to detain him on suspicion of abduction. Over.’
‘Received. Suspect’s turning onto Addison Street. He should be in your view now.’
‘Yeah, we’ve got him. Secure the garage, please.’
‘Will do.’
DS Travers immediately left the bus stop and made his way to the disused garage. The wooden doors were closed, but not locked. The detective opened the door.
The garage was empty.
‘DS Travers to DI Hopkirk. The garage is empty.’
‘Any sign of the bag of food?’
‘Negative.’
Brandon Temple was now already back at his motorcycle, and Brian had a huge decision to make.
He walked across the road towards Temple, cautioned him and said, ‘Brandon Temple, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the abduction of Emily Whitchurch.’
At first, Temple was shocked. He quickly recovered and said, ‘That’s preposterous! What utter nonsense.’
Brian wasn’t fazed by the university professor’s bluster. He said calmly, ‘Where have you just been?’
‘I went for a walk on the recreation ground. I needed some fresh air.’
‘Been there long?’
‘I don’t know, about half an hour or so. Why?’
‘What’s in the garage, Professor?’
Abruptly, the mask of normality slipped from Temple’s face. His lip curled, and he snarled, ‘It doesn’t
matter what’s in the fucking garage anymore!’
Brian placed handcuffs on Temple, grabbed his arm and said, ‘Come on. Let’s go and see, shall we?’
As Brian began to walk Temple back along Addison Street, towards Forest Road East, Rachel jumped out of the car and said to Stacey Bloom, ‘Follow me, but try not to let Professor Temple see you, okay?’
Stacey nodded and said, ‘Bloody hell! I didn’t think your suspect would be my boss.’
Rachel quickly caught up with Brian, who said, ‘DC Moore, Professor Temple’s going to show us what’s inside the derelict garage he’s just visited.’
Temple snarled and tried to break Brian’s grip on his arm. Brian gripped him even tighter and whispered in his ear, ‘Don’t fucking bother, Temple. There are cops everywhere.’
As Brian, Rachel and Brandon Temple approached the garages, DS Travers opened the door.
Brian looked inside; the garage was empty except for several sheets of hardboard that were propped against the far wall.
Brian turned to Rachel. ‘Shift those boards.’
With help from DS Travers, Rachel moved the boards away from the back wall. Secreted behind the boards was a small hole in the brick wall. Rachel looked inside and could see that beyond it was an entrance into the cave system. Anybody entering the caves via this entrance would need to get down on their hands and knees. The hole was tiny.
Brian turned to Brandon Temple and, for the first time, noticed the dust on the knees of his trousers. He said, ‘Is the girl down there?’
Temple said nothing, but allowed a cruel smile to play on his lips.
Brian turned to DS Travers and said, ‘Take him back to my car and keep him there. I need to clarify something.’
