The Horsemen: A Harrison Lane Mystery (The Dr Harrison Lane Mysteries Book 2)

by Gwyn GB

‘Harrison Lane, you certainly know how to do emotional blackmail.’ DCI Barker thrummed her fingers on her desk. ‘OK, in principle. He’s working on stuff that can be carried by DC Oaks in his absence. But it would only be a week.’

  Harrison gave her one of his best smiles.

  ‘Thank you, and I promise it will be just one week. Will you keep an eye on Tanya?’

  ‘Yes, I will. I’m not having her life ruined by some pervert.’ DCI Barker scribbled something on the notepad by her side. Then she looked up with a cheeky smile on her face and a raised eyebrow. ‘You’re very concerned about Dr Jones all of a sudden. Getting better acquainted, are we? About time.’

  ‘I’m just helping her out. She’s scared.’ Harrison stood to leave.

  DCI Barker’s smile grew wider.

  ‘Mmm, that sounds like a guilty man’s excuse.’

  ‘I wouldn’t take advantage of this situation.’ Harrison looked at her seriously.

  ‘I know you wouldn’t, Harrison, but maybe she’d be quite open to you getting to know her a bit better. It’s about time you put the single women in this station out of their misery.’

  It was Harrison’s turn to look surprised. Sandra Barker watched as he struggled to come back with a reply before giving up.

  ‘Thank you for your help,’ he mumbled instead, and pulled the office door open to escape.

  The DCI sighed with satisfaction at his exit. She lived in hope that he’d chill out at last. Tanya was a strong woman. If anyone could win him over, then it would be her.

  Harrison needed to get back on firmer ground and so he pushed the conversation he’d just had with the DCI out of his head and went straight to Jack Salter’s desk.

  ‘All right, doc?’ Jack beamed as he arrived.

  Jack was a little sceptical when Harrison told him the plan, but he called Marie straight away while he was still with him. He repeated the words that Harrison had suggested he use, making it sound as though it had been her suggestion and that she’d be doing her parents the favour by taking their grandson to see them. The smile that lit up Jack’s face, and the thumbs up he gave to Harrison, told him that Marie had agreed. They would all leave tonight, ready for Jack and Harrison to start work in the morning.

  After work, Harrison picked up Tanya and took her back to his flat to collect her things. She was quieter than usual, subdued.

  ‘Thanks for getting DCI Barker involved,’ she said to him. ‘She’s already spoken to the SIO on the case, and I was right, nobody’s been charged.’

  ‘Did he say anything about your stalker?’

  Tanya had been quiet, but when she spoke, her voice dropped further in volume.

  ‘Yeah. He said his gut told him that the boyfriend killed her, but they had no evidence and he’d got an alibi. The SIO reckons that the man who gave him his alibi is lying, but their hands are tied. He hasn’t given up on it though and is very interested in what’s happening with me. He’s going to do a renewed push, check out past relationships, re-interview him.’

  ‘I’m sorry I have to leave London for a few days, but DCI Barker has promised to be there and help you, so if anything happens you must promise to call her.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s given me her mobile. I’ll be fine. He’s been hanging around for weeks now, it’s not like he’s going to suddenly do something.’

  Tanya didn’t sound so convinced about the last statement, and Harrison wasn’t either. He reached out and took her hand.

  ‘Please, Tanya, promise me you’ll also call me if you’re scared—after you’ve called 999 of course. That if anything happens you won’t ignore it, you’ll report it. I’m not that far away. If you need me, I can come back.’

  She’d looked at her hand in his, and then up to his face, her blue eyes full of tears. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and then she’d brushed the tears away and stood up straight. ‘Don’t you worry. He’s not going to scare me. I will not be his next victim. He’s picked on the wrong girl.’

  17

  DCI Whittaker was ecstatic at the news that Harrison and Jack were coming to help with the case. He’d not held out too much hope because he knew how strapped everyone was with staff. When Harrison and Jack arrived at the station in the morning, he had everything prepared to give them a full brief and hit the ground running. All he needed to do was handle a disgruntled DS Brian O’Neil, who’d taken the announcement of their coming as a personal affront.

  Jack was staying with the in-laws. He’d left a smiling Marie sitting watching her parents cooing over their son, while her mother intermittently stopped cuddling him to fuss over her. He hadn’t felt this relieved in months. It literally felt like a ton of weight, responsibility, and worry had been lifted from his shoulders. He was as light as a feather.

  Jack arrived at the Cambridgeshire Constabulary headquarters in the Hinchingbrooke Business Park. There were fields surrounding the buildings and large, open-air car parks. Trees framed the site on two sides of its triangular area. A huge sky of blue with an accent of white hung above the landscape. It had been a while since Jack had visited this area of Britain, he’d forgotten just how big and open it was, compared to the squashed skyline of London.

  Jack had just turned off his engine when he saw Harrison swing his Harley into the car park. The relief he felt now, which was down to Harrison’s idea to get Marie up here, meant he could have walked straight up to him and given him a hug—but of course he didn’t. He did allow himself a secret laugh at the image in his head of Harrison’s reaction if he had.

  Jack had already read the post-mortem, Harrison’s offender profile, and the reports from the SIOs. It was immediately obvious that they didn’t have a clue at this stage who the murderer was, but there were plenty of suspects. He also needed to try to get inside Harrison’s head to work out what it was he was thinking—not a straightforward task. It was clear he had some theories of his own and wasn’t convinced the new SIO was going to take any notice of theirs.

  The board that met them in the incident room, plastered with dozens of photographs, names, and question marks, was a testament to the lack of solid leads.

  The second they’d walked into the room, DS Brian O’Neil had intercepted them.

  ‘Dr Lane.’ He nodded. ‘And DS Salter, I presume?’ His tone was tense. There was no smile or outstretched hand.

  Jack immediately thrust his hand out to greet him. It hung there midair for a few moments, before DS O’Neil realised there were eyes in the room, watching. He took Jack’s hand firmly, shook it once, and then dropped it.

  ‘We’ve been making good progress and have several suspects,’ he started.

  Harrison wondered if he realised how defensive he sounded. He didn’t know DS O’Neil very well but didn’t need to spend more than a few minutes with him to know he was someone who didn’t do subtlety and social etiquette. It helped explain why he hadn’t climbed the ranks sooner.

  ‘The DCI wants me to hold a briefing for you,’ O’Neil continued. There was an unsubtle sneer in his voice. ‘I’ll get my team together. We need to keep it short because we’re all busy. If you go into the briefing room,’ he tipped his head towards a doorway at the other end of the room, ‘we’ll join you.’

  Jack looked at Harrison and raised an eyebrow. When they’d reached the privacy of the briefing room, he said what he was thinking.

  ‘Warm welcome! Had hoped there might be a bit more appreciation for the extra support, but I guess we’re interfering outsiders from London.’

  ‘I don’t think DS O’Neil is particularly warm to anyone,’ Harrison replied, remembering the briefing he’d given to the team the last time he was here.

  ‘I guess he’s had his nose put out of joint by the DCI asking us to help. Made it look like he wasn’t capable of running the investigation. I reckon I’d be a bit annoyed,’ Jack added.

  ‘He isn’t capable,’ Harrison replied in his usual matter-of-fact way. He settled himself into one of the chairs at the far end of the meeting table.
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br />   Jack could always rely on him to tell it how it was.

  A few minutes later Harrison spotted the DCI heading their way, closely followed by a constable carrying a tray laden with coffees and water, and following up the rear a grim-faced DS O’Neil and two other detectives.

  Once introductions were out of the way, DS O’Neil stood up and began.

  ‘Paul was with his girlfriend, Gabby Peterson, a jockey at the Three Oaks Stables the night before his murder. They both got up early in the morning and went out on exercise with the horses, before Paul went back to his cottage alone. That was the last time she saw him. Paul’s phone GPS shows that a few hours later, he left his cottage and went to the barn on the edge of Fordham Woods. The phone and car remained there until we found them.’

  ‘Could I get into the barn as a matter of urgency?’ Harrison spoke up.

  ‘Absolutely. We’ve done a lot of the forensic work there already. You can get in this morning,’ DCI Whittaker answered. DS O’Neil ground his teeth and continued.

  ‘Some of Paul’s friends said he had a very public row with an Alex Michaels, another jockey, at the last big meet. He accused Alex of riding dangerously and the two were nearly sanctioned for fighting, but friends intervened, and the officials let it go. Gabby suggested Alex is a bit of a wild card and known for not only being tough on his mounts but also for cutting up some of the other horses on the track. We’ve requested he talk to us. He’s at a race today, but we should get him tomorrow.’

  ‘And the other suspects?’ Jack asked innocently.

  The DCI looked at DS O’Neil and raised an eyebrow. The detective gave Jack a dirty look. He wondered if he’d said something wrong, so qualified himself.

  ‘You said you have several suspects.’

  ‘We have potential suspects,’ DS O’Neil finally replied. ‘Craig Matlock is holding back. We think he must be one of The Horsemen as it’s his barn, but he won’t give us the names of any of the others and claims to have no idea why Paul was killed. My money is this whole thing is related to that secret society of theirs.’ He threw a glance at Harrison. ‘Dr Lane said they use scented oils to attract horses, or repel them. What if someone wanted to get hold of those oils so they could use them? There’s big money in horse racing. If you wanted to stop a horse from leaving the stalls, why not use the oil? It would be pretty much undetectable and have an impact on who wins. Or maybe Paul had already been trying that trick himself and either got found out or got cold feet. We could be looking at organised crime gang involvement. There was that tip off last year that one of the OCGs out of Manchester was involved in race fixing.’ O’Neil looked triumphantly at Harrison, his boss and Jack.

  ‘Good work Brian, it’s certainly plausible. We need to look at who was set to gain or lose from that, and if there’s any links between Paul and known OCG members,’ DCI Whittaker said.

  Harrison said nothing.

  He’d been skim reading Gabby Phillip’s interview transcript. It wasn’t so much what she’d said as what she hadn’t said. After they’d been to the barn, their first visit needed to be with her. He waited for the meeting to break-up and it was just him, Jack, and the DCI left in the room.

  ‘Do we have permission to interview who we want?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, absolutely, as long as it’s all logged officially, and you tell Brian. I know he’s a bit prickly about you being here, you’ve got to understand that I had given this to him and it’s his territory, but if things get too difficult, come straight to me. I’ll make sure you both have all the clearances, and all the team, and forensics know.’

  ‘So, who have you got your eyes on as our first interview?’ Jack turned to Harrison once the DCI had left. ‘You don’t ask a question unless there’s a reason behind it.’

  ‘Gabby Peterson, Paul’s girlfriend. She was upset when they first interviewed her, and I think they went easy on the questioning. But first we need to get to the barn.’

  18

  Jack drove them to the barn at Fordham Woods, aided by Harrison’s directions and his satnav.

  ‘So tell me about The Horsemen,’ he said to Harrison in the car on the way, ‘What’s it all about?’

  ‘It was an ancient society, not just from round here, but other parts of the UK, including Scotland. It was all about sharing the trade secrets of being a horseman and ploughman, when they were essential to farming and society. They formed a brotherhood to help each other, swore oaths and carried out rituals. A bit like a superstitious trades union, although they also shared practical cures when modern medicine hadn’t yet come about. It’s thought the origins go back centuries. If you had all the secrets then you could probably make a better income than those who weren’t in the brotherhood. They had recipes for scented oils which could be used to control horses. Powerful stuff, if those became common knowledge they could be used wrongly, and so they had to swear an oath not to tell the secrets. The penalty was death.’

  ‘So it could be that Paul was killed by the group because he talked?’

  ‘It’s a possibility but I don’t think so.’

  ‘O’Neil’s theory sounds good. If those scented oils could be used in a way to impact a race, then it could be a motive.’

  Harrison was silent for a few moments.

  ‘It doesn’t fit with what they did to him, cutting out his heart. I still think it’s related to fear and not greed.’

  ‘And the toad bone?’

  ‘You could be a Toad man without being a Horseman, but the two were often linked. Superstition said that the bone was what gave the powers. Many thought it was linked to the devil.’

  ‘Can’t see the attraction of having a bit of dead toad around my neck, personally,’ said Jack.

  ‘No, but think how many people carried around dead rabbit’s feet to bring them luck.’

  ‘Well if Paul Lester’s experience is anything to go by, perhaps that’s why toad bones never caught on as good luck charms – didn’t bring him much luck did it?’

  When they arrived at the barn, there was one lone forensics van there, and just two staff on site. Jack knew how Harrison liked to work and so he suggested he spoke to the forensics team while Harrison went in. It would give him a head start and the quiet he needed to focus.

  Inside, the barn was bleached out with bright lights the team had rigged up so they could see into every nook and cranny of the structure. Harrison turned off all the extra lighting so that the barn was reduced to a soft glow inside. It was important to understand the conditions on the day Paul was killed. What could be seen, what couldn’t. He’d turn the lights back on later when looking for details.

  Harrison preferred to get into a crime scene as soon as possible after the event. It wasn’t just the visuals, but the smell and feel of the place as well. All of these were triggers to mood and atmosphere which could affect a person’s behaviours and reactions. Every stimulus could give a clue as to what had gone on. The barn had been full of forensics staff for the past two days, so its original ambience would have been disturbed. However, he could still get a good feel for the place.

  Harrison closed the door to the barn. Jack and the two forensics officers were far enough away that their voices were a murmur that could be filtered out. He closed his eyes, cleared his head, and brought his focus into connection with the here and now. He wanted the barn to seep into him so he could feel its energy and witness what it had seen that day.

  The first thing that struck Harrison was the area to which his eyes were drawn once he’d re-opened them. It had the feel of being in a church with an altar. The barn lights were directed so as to pull your view to the far end where a large wooden table was set up with big candlesticks on either side. Above the table were hung two horse skulls. In front was a seating area with large wooden backed pews running along the left wall. They looked like they’d probably been bought after the closure of a local church. On the other side was a pile of straw bales, possibly used as further seating. Maybe there was a hier
archy in the society, the leaders sitting on the benches and the new recruits atop the straw bales.

  To the right of this area, behind the bales, was a giant pile of hay and straw as though somebody had scattered it ready for a large gathering of horses. It must have been over four feet thick. This pile was only visible if you walked to the right, around the stacked bales, and couldn’t be seen at all from the ‘altar’ area.

  Closer to this pile, a dark, almost black sticky pool showed where Paul had his heart cut from him. In between that and the hay, was a series of markers left by the forensics team. Harrison knew what had been here, he’d seen the photographs. A long length of rope had lain, stretched and curled like a basking snake, only this snake had a noose instead of a head. It was now back at the lab, being combed for DNA.

  Harrison hadn’t moved far from the doorway, but he could see almost everything in the barn. It wasn’t a particularly large area, and while the shadows were soft around the walls, it would be hard for anyone to hide in here, unless they’d climbed into the hayloft. He would try up there in a few moments.

  The air was mostly what you’d expect, a dusty hay smell wrapped in musty damp wood, but the iron laden odour of dried blood gave it an edge.

  When he reached the hay, there was a pile of forensic labelled bags, around the size of bin bags, on the floor. Several were already filled. The SOCOs had quite literally drawn the short straw and were having to bag all the hay so they could ensure nothing was hidden within it, and in case it would be needed later. Question was, why was it there in the first place? Harrison had a strong suspicion. He looked up. A large beam stretched across the roof of the barn. He needed to get up into the hayloft.

  Harrison climbed the ladder, which was positioned to the right and led straight up to an area that covered roughly a third of the barn’s size at the far end. It was empty. The only thing he could find was a thin piece of rope tied to one of the vertical beams at the edge of the hayloft, and above that, a large metal ring. When he stood on the edge next to them, he was looking down directly onto the pile of hay below. Up above ran the large timber beam. There was no doubt in Harrison’s mind that this was where Paul had been hung from. The thin piece of rope would have held the noose secure, ready to be used, and the ring would have been where the other end of the rope was tied, with the beam the hanging point. This wasn’t a quick opportune murder. The hanging noose was a fixture. The ring had been there some time, he could tell that from its colouring and that of the wood where it had been screwed in. Harrison knew exactly why it was there. Question was, why had Paul died here?