Caught in a Trap

by Trevor Burton

  Once in the car, Amelia released her tension with a loud, ‘Phew! That was difficult. Do you think they will be all right?’

  ‘They might need a stiff drink tonight,’ I suggested, starting up the Saab. ‘But then, so might we.’

  ‘Ha, ha. True!’

  Before setting off, I called Bill Lambert, but he had left for home. It was seven thirty, after all. I tried his mobile too, but it rang unanswered. I left a message.

  As I drove Amelia to the station to collect her car, we tried to convince ourselves that Tina’s death was an accident. The attempt failed miserably, the scenario too strongly suggesting foul play. Too late for cooking, the pub was only a short distance away. I went first and she followed in her car. A quick pizza and a glass of wine did the trick. I watched her drive away and then headed for home. I arrived to find my answerphone flashing with a message from Bill. I checked my mobile, and there was a message there also.

  I called his mobile, and he answered immediately. ‘What have you got, then?’

  ‘Plenty.’ I related the information received from Susie and Mel.

  ‘Blimey! Well done, you two.’

  I didn’t feel in the mood for praise, but the comment helped.

  ‘This Matt was a bit of a bastard,’ he continued. ‘It seems him and Lenny Mack were supplying half the druggies in the city.’

  ‘It sure looks that way.’

  ‘OK, thanks. I’ll get that processed, and let you know the cause of death ASAP. Then again, if you’re in town, you could call in at, say, twelve thirty? Evans and Wang will be joining us, and you can pick up the expenses you forgot at lunch today.’

  ‘Ah! Yes, I’ll do that. See you at twelve thirty?’

  ‘Yes, see you then.’

  Suddenly exhausted, I crawled into bed.

  Next morning, unsure of what time I would get away from GMPHQ, I drove into Stockport, arriving after Amelia.

  ‘Late train?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I drove in, with the usual snarl-ups on the road. I’m off for a meeting with Bill Lambert at twelve thirty. I’ll pick up the cheque at the same time.’

  ‘You’ll need to bank it quick,’ she added, tossing the latest online printout of the Enodo account. ‘Will you get away before the banks close?’

  ‘Oh! Shit, I’m not sure. I’ll call the bank this morning and explain. You know how twitchy they can get if you don’t keep them informed.’

  ‘I certainly do,’ she agreed fervently.

  We flicked through the post, which was mostly bills.

  ‘Are we going to tell Tina’s mother about the drugs and the escort business?’ she asked. ‘And do I make up her final bill?’

  ‘Gee, that’s a tough one.’

  ‘I’ll leave it with you, then?’

  ‘Thanks a bunch,’ I acknowledged.

  I arrived at GMPHQ at twelve twenty-five. I was expected and whisked straight through to Bill Lambert’s office. Evans and Wang were already seated around a conference table with a platter of sandwiches in the middle. Greetings were made and hands shaken. Bill indicated a seat.

  ‘Help yourself to a sarnie,’ Bill gestured. ‘These guys have already demolished one plate, and we can’t have tax-payers’ money going to waste. Here, and don’t forget this today either.’ He passed me an envelope. Evans and Wang exchanged a glance, but that was the end of it. I folded it and stuffed it in my inside pocket, with only a nod to Bill.

  ‘Before we discuss Tina, we received some very important information earlier: the results of the forensics on Matt Neville. His fingerprints match those found on the knife that killed Jake the bass player, so I think we can say that’s a murder solved, and that wound on the back of his head is consistent with him falling or being pushed hard onto the back of the narrowboat. Furthermore, traces of paint and wood were found in the wound matching that of the point on the boat where his head struck.’

  ‘So, what did kill him, then? The knife or the blow to the back of the head?’ I asked.

  ‘Either could have killed him, but the forensic report ventures to say that the knife wound would have been enough to kill him but the head wound was also enough to kill him. The cause of death will be recorded as a stab wound, the stabbing having been committed by one Matt Neville. Whether Matt intended to kill him, I guess we’ll never know.’

  I was about to voice a theory about Tina, but felt it might be a risk until I knew the full facts about Elvis and his trip to Birmingham – and of course when we had a positive ID to confirm it was him in Birmingham.

  ‘Well, at least we have the confirmation that Matt did it,’ I settled for.

  Bill looked for any more comments, and receiving none, moved on. ‘Right, let’s get on with Tina,’ Bill began. ‘The information you gave me yesterday corroborates the findings. Maurice, if you can summarise the findings on the drugs situation, Sammy can tell us what he found on the escort angle.’

  Evans shuffled his papers, coughed and began in his sing-song Welsh lilt. ‘Right-o, then. The findings confirm that she had been a regular drug user for some time, and there were traces of two substances in her bloodstream at the time of death: ecstasy and cocaine. No substances were found in the clothes she was wearing.’

  Lambert indicated for Sammy to begin. He addressed his comments directly to me. ‘We hauled in Julian Hampson. At first, he denied knowing Tina or anything about the escort business, but when we advised him that the two flatmates had both indicated it was him that provided the clients for Tina he caved in, maintaining that he was only trying to help her out because he knew about her money trouble.’

  ‘Very noble of him,’ I commented drily. ‘So, was her death an accident or foul play?’

  ‘Ah! Bill joins in, until from the official coroner’s inquest report into the actual cause of death is completed, we are treating it as drowning, but that leaves several unanswered questions: what was she doing there, was she pushed, or did she merely fall in?’

  ‘Is this anything to do with Elvis?’ Evans asked.

  There was a pause as we all glanced at each other. No one knew where he might be. I raised the matter of the mug shot pics that Bill was having sent down to Birmingham for William. ‘We still have no firm idea where Elvis might be. What about the mug shots you had sent down for William to check out?’

  ‘No word back yet,’ he answered curtly. ‘How long should it take to show him a mug shot, for God’s sake?’

  ‘Stymied for now, then,’ Wang observed.

  ‘Maurice, can you chase it up?’

  ‘Right-o, boss. I’ll do it now, shall I?’

  ‘Yes, quick about it,’ Lambert ordered, as Evans rose and left the room.

  We threw theories about, none convincing, until Evans returned fifteen minutes later with a downturned mouth.

  ‘I tried that bloke at the Canal and Rivers Trust, but he’s out for lunch.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Lambert cursed.

  ‘It was only yesterday that you sent the mug shots,’ I observed.

  ‘Point taken,’ Bill accepted. ‘Let’s wrap it up for now. Maurice, keep chasing.’ Looking at me, he added, ‘we’ll let you know as soon as.’

  I was back in the office by two-fifteen. ‘Gosh, you’re back early!’ Amelia greeted me.

  ‘Yes, indeed. How long does it take to say somebody drowned? I did get the cash and made it to the bank, though.’

  ‘Good result – apart from the fact that Tina drowned, I mean. What happened?’

  ‘That remains to be discovered, but so far we know that drugs were found in her system and that she drowned. Nothing was found on her body.’

  ‘Anything about the man on the boat in Birmingham? You still reckon it was Elvis?’

  ‘We’re still waiting for news about the mug shot GMP sent down there yesterday.’

  ‘You seemed quite confident yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ I said, slightly irritated, ‘but confidence without facts are not much use in front of a panel of police dete
ctives, so I chose to keep quiet.’

  ‘Ah! Yes, I agree. Better to be safe than sorry and wait for the comeback on the mug shots.’

  We attempted to summarise the situation. ‘What have we got?’ I started. ‘It all began with one body, Jake, but now we have Matt and Tina as well.’

  ‘Yes, and Jake and Tina were both found at Castlefield, Matt is part of the band, and supplied Tina with drugs.’

  ‘The conundrum is therefore: were all of them murdered? For certain Jake Bosson and Matt Neville were – Bosson was stabbed, and Neville received a severe blow to the head from a blunt instrument. But Tina Johnson… could her drowning have been accidental?’

  ‘Yes,’ Amelia continued. ‘Tina’s drowning could have been accidental, but I for one very much doubt it.’

  ‘The odds do point to them all being murdered, especially given the connections,’ I agreed.

  ‘And then there is the drugs and the jewellery… what part do they play in it all?’ she pondered.

  ‘Yes, they obviously play into motive, but we need more forensic information from the police to determine exactly how they died. Bill Lambert said hopefully this week.’

  ‘All a bit of a mess,’ Amelia observed despondently. ‘What about the canals and Birmingham stuff? You seemed to think you had it all sorted out when you came back from Birmingham on Tuesday.’

  ‘I do have a theory, yes, but until we have identification from William that the man on the boat in Birmingham was Elvis, it’s just pure supposition, isn’t it?’

  ‘Um,’ she nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking about Tina… will the police have told her mother about the drugs and the escort stuff, or should we, do it?’

  ‘I’m sure they will have told her the bare facts about the drugs in her system and so forth, but whether they would tell her all the ins and outs about being an escort to finance the drugs… I don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe we should have a go at Julian,’ she suggested.

  ‘Good idea. I’ve got a feeling he’s got more to tell us, and it would make me feel better about a final bill if we provided a full story about Tina.’

  ‘That’s logical. Closure, if you like. In terms of being the manager of Streetsound, though… he’s not got much of a band left to manage now, has he?’ she observed.

  ‘Ha, ha, but I suppose you’re right on that score.’

  It was now four forty-five, and Amelia glanced down at her watch, obviously ready to pack up for the day.

  ‘Before we go, let’s list down all the things that we do know, and then it’s there for the morning to chew over further after a night’s sleep.’

  ‘OK, shouldn’t take very long.’ She walked to the white board on the wall and picked up a pen. ‘You speak, and I’ll be the scribe.’

  By five thirty we’d made columns under the headings of the bodies, and under each: location, means, motive, and opportunity.

  Amelia makes a point. ‘On the subject of means we know that Jake was stabbed and his head was bashed, and we know that Tina drowned, but what about Matt?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that, I know it sounds strange but it’s a conversation I had with Rebecca, about a windlass of all things, but I haven’t quite pieced it together yet.’

  ‘I think I’ll leave that one with you,’ she said.

  Additional items relative to each were also added, like drugs, jewellery and so on.

  Chapter 29

  On Friday morning Evans burst into Bill Lambert’s office, closely followed by Sammy Wang.

  ‘We got it, boss!’ Evans announced excitedly.

  Lambert apologised to the caller he had on the line and put down his phone. ‘What’s that, then?’

  ‘Positive ID of Elvis’s mug shot, from Birmingham police. Came into Sammy’s email just now.’

  ‘Bloody fantastic!’ Lambert exclaimed.

  ‘We still don’t know where he is now, though,’ Sammy pointed out.

  ‘No, but the fact that he was in Birmingham and that both he and the boat appear to be dodgy is a huge step forward,’ Lambert stated.

  Evans pressed his boss further. ‘Have we had all the forensics back yet on the three deaths?’

  ‘No, that is what we need to make real progress, the most important being the weapons used on Jake and Matt. The cause of death in Tina’s case was drowning, but what led up to that? Well, it’s open until we get some more information. A call for information has gone to members of the public who were in the Castlefield area at the time.’

  ***

  Meanwhile at Enodo, Amelia and I were staring at the whiteboard we set up last night, making little progress.

  ‘The only thing that seems to connect through all the deaths is Castlefield,’ she concluded.

  ‘That’s correct,’ I agreed. ‘However, that only ticks the location box for two. Matt was killed in the dressing room.’

  ‘We can’t discount the fact that he had been seen by Lady Jane walking in Castlefield, though, can we?’

  ‘No, definitely not. But it could be pure coincidence, and there could be three entirely different scenarios.’

  Amelia’s thoughts moved back to our own precarious financial situation. ‘If we do go and see Julian Hampson, as we talked about yesterday, we may find out more to justify our final bill to Tina’s mother Alison.’

  I was still not entirely comfortable issuing a bill to someone so soon after the death of a daughter. ‘Yes, you’re right, and the circumstances of her demise remain a mystery. We’d better clear it with GMP first. They will have his number and address, and the info from Birmingham might be in now. I’ll make the call right now.’

  A short while later, I had Lambert on the phone. ‘Result!’ he declared jubilantly. ‘Bill confirms that William has positively identified the mug shot as Brian Hampson, and approves our going to see his son Julian. If you can get around to his place today, I’d like to move things forward before the weekend if I can. So, if you get some information, call me and get over later if possible.’

  ‘OK,’ I agreed happily. ‘We’re right on it, Call you later.’ Putting down the phone, I gave a double thumbs-up to Amelia.

  ‘Excellent! Where are we going to, then?’

  I finished off writing down the details Bill had given me before answering. ‘Broadheath, Altrincham.’

  ‘Oh! Not the best place in town. Last time I was around there it was mostly small dingy industrial-type units.’

  My quizzical look must have given my thoughts away.

  ‘I went to buy a second-hand table and chairs,’ she explained, pouting. ‘It was years ago, and I was living in a flat in Sale. And did you come on the train this morning?’

  ‘Ah! Yes,’ I replied. ‘I’ll call Julian if you check out the quickest way to get over there.’

  It took literally two minutes to google the information.

  ‘No contest,’ she says. ‘Car would take twice as long, and it’s only sixteen minutes on the train. There’s one in fifteen minutes, and Broadheath is only a mile from the station. Let’s go!’

  Forty-five minutes after leaving the Enodo office, we were rapping on Julian’s office door – an office wedged in between a motor factors and a paint distributor on a less than desirable small industrial estate. I could see someone on reception, but nothing happened. Not having heard a buzzer, we tried the door. It was open and we went straight in. The receptionist was a young woman with spiky dark red hair, a nose ring and tattoos – a bit of a punk with attitude, I thought.

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’ she asked. ‘Only, Mr Hampson is very busy right now.’

  We were not in the mood for niceties.

  ‘We just made one,’ I said, walking through the door to the rear and right of her desk. She made to follow, looking alarmed, but one look from Amelia stopped her in her tracks.

  A startled Julian looked up as we entered his office. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he shouted rising from his chair.

  ‘What do you know about Tina Johnson,’ I
asked.

  ‘I don’t know any Tina,’ he exclaimed red faced. ‘Are you the police?’

  ‘We’re working for Tina’s mother, I have the OK to speak to you from Detective Inspector Lambert, Greater Manchester Police. I’ll just give him a call, shall I?’ Waving my mobile at him. He visibly crumbled and fell back noisily into his chair.

  Hearing the kerfuffle, the young punk receptionist poked her head around the door. ‘Is everything alright, Mr Hampson?’

  ‘Yes, Donna, everything is OK. One of my artists has gone missing, and these people are assisting in the search to find her.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll get back to work, then.’ She left the door ajar just enough to eavesdrop.

  We put the visitors’ chairs in front of his desk, placing them wide apart so that he had to turn his head from one to the other as we spoke. Amelia began incisively. ‘Why did you turn her onto prostitution?’

  ‘It wasn’t prostitution – not like that at all. It’s an escort agency. I get a fee from the men. If a girl wants to make more money, it’s her choice. She said it was to pay her university fees, but I suspected she was also doing drugs.’

  ‘What gave you that idea?’ I challenged.

  ‘It was something Matt from the band said.’

  ‘And by all accounts he should know,’ I said sarcastically.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘You’re lying!’ Amelia snapped, causing his head to swivel around.

  ‘I don’t do drugs, but there was some gossip.’

  ‘How many girls work for you?’ I demanded.

  ‘I don’t really know. They ring me when they need some cash, and if I’ve got any requests I’ll pass over their phone number to the client – after he’s paid me, of course.’

  ‘Did the police know about this before we told them?’ Amelia asked, with a disapproving curl of the lip.

  ‘I doubt it. They searched my flat and this place, but there are no records. It’s all done cash.’

  ‘Your mobile phone contacts,’ I probed. ‘Surely the police had a look?’

  ‘Yes, of course, but I don’t list the girls as escorts, just artists. And as I told you before there aren’t that many.’