“Oh, yes I know, my brain’s fried.”
“You okay?” Grant knew that Saunders had been to see the body, and had also been to deliver the bad news to the dead man’s mother. She didn’t mention it, but she wanted Saunders to know that she was thinking of him.
“Yes, yeah, I’ll be fine. My head is all over the place, got thousands of conflicting thoughts. None of this makes any bloody sense.”
“I know. But we’ll have identified the car soon, it’s literally only a matter of minutes until we crack this. Stay positive.” Grant touched Saunders’ shoulder tenderly as she turned and headed back to her own desk.
“Hope you’re right,” muttered Saunders, who really didn’t have a clue what was happening with this bizarre enquiry. He very rarely felt so disconnected from a live case. But this one was throwing up so many surprises and false-starts that he just couldn’t find his usual mojo.
In the DCI’s office, overlooking the rest of the team, Miller was hoping for one thing. He wanted the Cole brothers to come up on one of the vehicle checks. He knew that if that happened, he pretty much had the mystery surrounding the murder of Curtis Kennedy solved. But even with this positive thought at the front of his mind, Miller was still completely at a loss as to how any of this fitted in with the DWP attacks. The link between Kenyon and the DWP employee Kelly Taylor in Glossop was tenuous, to say the least. But despite the frustration of only having a small part of the picture, he was still feeling confident that something was going to turn up.
And he was right. Miller’s phone rang. It was the Sheffield DCI.
“Ah, DCI Miller, answered on the first ring. You must be keen to hear from me?”
“Hi, yes, you could say that. Although desperate is probably a better word than keen!”
“Well, it’s excellent news.”
“Your officers stopped two black men?” Miller’s voice was full of hope.
“No. I’m afraid not.”
“Oh.”
“But it’s still excellent news. The crime scene has yielded us a DNA sample, some genetic material which in turn has matched up with DNA that’s stored on the PNC. We’ve a positive ID for one of the people who was transporting the suitcase.”
Miller pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment. He was gob-smacked. This was way beyond any expectations he’d ever dared to have. DNA sampling usually takes seventy-two hours at least, and that’s during the normal working week. Only four, maybe five hours had passed since Miller was at the scene.
“Are you there?”
“Yes, yes, shit. Sorry, you just took my breath away. That’s unbelievable!”
“Yes, ha, I must agree it was a very lucky find. We’ve got the new integrated microfluid DNA testing system, it makes checking DNA blood samples almost as quick as a search for fingerprints. There was a sample of blood on the stone that one of them had tripped over. He must have had a harder fall than we had anticipated.”
“Yes, shit. He must have.”
“Well, you can go and ask him. His name matches up to a vehicle which was stopped in Sheffield. You’ve got him.”
Miller wanted to punch the air. No, he wanted to drive over to Sheffield and kiss this DCI on the forehead. This was absolutely incredible.
“What, how…”
“How, what?” The DCI in Sheffield was smiling down the phone. He obviously found DCI Miller’s reaction to this incredible turn-up extremely endearing.
“Wow, sorry. I was just about to bang my head against my desk… and now this. I can’t believe it!”
“Okay, have you got a pen?”
“Yes.”
“The man who has left a blood deposit on the rock is called Daniel Hart, he’s thirty, and he’s got a few convictions for assault, carrying an offensive weapon, witness intimidation. Reading between the lines, he looks like he’s part of the gang world. His last known address on the system is 59 Whitehead Road, Gorton. Got that?”
“Yes, cheers.”
“He was the travelling companion of Simon Wilson, forty-nine years old, he’s served several stretches for nasty crimes. His last known address on the PNC is 411 Hyde Road, also Gorton. The vehicle is registered to him, at the same address, it’s a Range Rover Sport, registration Foxtrot Papa Six Three, November Uniform Tango.”
“Nut?”
“Yes, ha ha, I thought that.”
“Aw this is top drawer, can’t thank you enough.”
“We’ve got the vehicle going through an ANPR camera leaving Barnsley, heading towards Manchester on the Woodhead pass. So, for all intents and purposes, it looks as though they’ve come up here for absolutely no reason, headed up to Barnsley, and then headed straight back in a big triangle. So, there’s the blood at the crime scene, along with the vehicle with the two males inside. I think there’s enough evidence to charge them on that alone.”
“Ha! Try telling the CPS that. But hey, I really can’t thank you enough there, you’ve done a sterling job.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll e-mail my report over later.”
“Cheers.”
Miller shouted “YES!” as he ended the call.
The rest of the team heard him, and looked across at his office. Behind the glass, Miller was grinning from ear-to-ear, he was stretching out his arms as though his team had just scored the winner in stoppage time.
Saunders left his seat and walked across to find out what was going on. Two minutes later, he left the office holding the piece-of-paper that Miller had scribbled the details onto. Saunders had been told to dig up everything that he could on those two names. This was exactly the lift that the jaded DI needed. The lights were suddenly back on, and Saunders looked refreshed as he made his way hastily back towards his desk.
Miller phoned Dixon, absolutely delighted that his instincts had made him put the task on hold, because the conversation would have been about the best way of handling a disastrous press conference, the purpose of which was to explain that the principal suspect was dead, and that enquiries have found that he wasn’t the attacker anyway.
Now, thanks to that astonishing phone call, the conversation was about pulling Simon Wilson and Daniel Hart in, at the same time as the Cole brothers.
*****
By 6pm, Saunders had delivered Miller a catalogue of information on the two men. They were both heavily involved in the gangland scene, and were both suspected drug dealers, working as middle-men for one of Manchester’s biggest cannabis suppliers. There were many contradictory comments listed on the system about both men, gathered from several old investigations. But one unmissable detail was the consistent reference to Marco MacDowell.
Miller was baffled. The sheer coincidence of being forced to abort his inquiries into MacDowell, in order to deal with this DWP enquiry, and then for his name to come up within the DWP case, was bizarre. Not only was it a peculiar coincidence, but it was also completely puzzling. Miller continued to read the notes that Saunders had compiled, and scratched his head as he did so. He was absolutely convinced that this was the greatest coincidence of all time. He wanted to talk to Saunders about it, to bat a few ideas off him, but he had left for the evening, finally submitting to the need for a rest.
Miller continued to read through the gathered intelligence. There was no real proof, but there was plenty of suspicion and informant advice that Simon Wilson and Daniel Hart were major distributors for Marco MacDowell. There had been two swoops made against them, by undercover officers, but on both occasions, they, and their vehicle had been completely clean, and they were sent on their way. The last attempt at arresting them had been made six months earlier by Drug Squad, supported by an Armed Response Unit. Their enquiry was dropped soon after, due to funding cuts. It was clear from the case notes that the investigating officers were most dissatisfied that the enquiry had been dropped.
Miller was making notes. He cursed the fact that the rest of the team had gone home, and that the enquiries that he wanted them to make would have to w
ait until morning. He read through the case notes for a final time, before finally admitting that he too should get home, and get some rest. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sunday
Miller was beaten in to the office by Saunders, as usual. The DI was busy at his desk when Miller asked him if he wanted a brew.
“Yes, cheers.” Said Saunders, without looking around.
A few minutes later, Miller placed the cup on Saunders’ desk, and retreated back to his own office. He had a lot to get ready for this morning’s team brief, and if possible, today was the day that he would be given the green-light to bring the four men in. But before that could happen, Miller wanted as much shit to throw at them as possible. The stakes were extremely high.
Miller was lost in his own thoughts in the office, compiling lists of jobs that needed to be completed today. When he eventually looked up, he saw that the office was once again brimming with activity, all of the officers were back in, taking advantage of the overtime, continuing with the tasks that had been assigned to them the previous afternoon.
By the time the team brief was about to start at 10am, the mood in the office was electric. There was a real sense of optimism in the air, once Miller and Saunders had shared the extraordinary developments from the past twenty-four hours with the rest of the team. The additional officers all knew that their time with the SCIU was about to come to an end, such was the confidence that the conclusion to this disturbing case was imminent.
“So, before we go any further, I’d like to thank you all for your excellent work on this frustrating case. Now, with a lot of hard work, and a little bit of luck, I think we are very close to finding out who the DWP attacker is, and putting this to bed once and for all. I have an extraordinary Sunday morning meeting scheduled for 11am, with DCS Dixon and the Chief Constable, and it is in that meeting that I intend to request the immediate detention of the four names that we have. Those individuals are,” Miller pointed at each of the four mug-shots on the incident room wall as he spoke. “Lenny Cole, Linton Cole, Daniel Hart and Simon Wilson.” Miller took a deep breath before continuing.
“These men are responsible, in one way or another, for this.” Miller pointed to the macabre photograph of Curtis Kennedy’s body, folded up in the foetal position inside the suitcase. He pinned the disturbing image on the wall.
“After a lot of thought, I have reached the conclusion that this murder was planned, but that under the circumstances of Curtis Kennedy being spotted outside the property in Glossop, it was rushed, and thankfully for us, the perpetrators left behind lots of evidence. Why do I think it was planned? Well, I’m glad you asked me that. Where can you find an old, orange plastic suitcase at eight ‘o’clock on a Friday night? If it was brand new, we could assume that it was bought at an all-night supermarket. But it wasn’t, and there are no all-night supermarkets in the area concerned, anyway.”
Rudovsky had her hand up.
“Go on, Jo.” Said Miller.
“Sir, just a thought, but what if Simon Wilson had just come back off holiday? He might have had his suitcase in the boot, might not have unpacked yet?”
It was a thought. But Miller dismissed it quickly. “That’s not a bad suggestion. But, look at it. Would you take that skanky old thing on holiday with you?” Miller had a point.
“Yes, shut up Jo!” said Chapman, unable to resist a chance to piss his colleague off.
“No, you shut up Bill, you fat bastard. I hope you get Crohn’s disease.”
There was a wave of shocked laughter at Rudovsky’s vicious response to Chapman’s attempt at banter.
“Alright, shush… there’s lots to get through here…” Miller didn’t look as though he was in the mood for any silliness today. Chapman looked embarrassed by Rudovsky’s skilful rebuttal. He didn’t learn from his daily mistake, and as such, few people had any sympathy for him.
The team were all quickly given tasks to do, and almost all of the tasks were connected to the Cole brothers, Simon Wilson, Daniel Hart or Curtis Kennedy.
DC Rudovsky was in charge of the team checking all ANPR logs of Wilson’s Range Rover. The automatic number-plate recognition technology was an excellent new addition to the police’s criminal investigations armoury. The brief was simple, build up a pattern of all ANPR logs of the vehicle, and firstly, see what, if any, the habitual geography of the vehicle was. Secondly, the exercise was to try and place the vehicle somewhere near, or around the attacks. There was a lot resting on these checks, and Rudovsky was determined to do a good job of enthusing her team.
DC Worthington was handed the task of checking CCTV footage again, this time looking for the Range Rover, and the Cole brother’s BMW from the existing footage that they had gathered from around each crime scene. There was an added task too, to go and retrieve all CCTV footage from around the two domestic scenes, the first being Stewart Grimley’s address in Shaw, and the second being Kelly Taylor’s address in Glossop, where Curtis Kennedy had been spotted.
DC Kenyon and his team were handed the job of checking the four suspects financial details on the DWP databases, firstly to check whether they had any dealings with the DWP themselves, and secondly to investigate their financial situations using bank and Inland Revenue systems. The biggest anomaly in all of this was the fact that these four gangsters were highly unlikely to be signing on, and at the receiving end of aggro from the DWP. Miller wanted this clarifying.
DC Grant was paired up with DC Chapman, and their task was door-to-doors around the two domestic addresses. The simple thought was that the BMW and the Range Rover were distinctive looking vehicles, and Miller wanted to know if they had been spotted around either address.
DI Saunders was building on the file that he had started the previous afternoon, with special attention on the Marco MacDowell links. This was going to be the deal-clincher, once the four men were in custody.
Getting the four men into custody was Miller’s job. He was planning dawn raids at all four of the men’s addresses for the following morning, with support from tactical aid and armed officers. It was going to be a big operation, and he would prefer to move straight away. But due to the scale of the operation, and the huge numbers of tactical officers that needed to be involved, plus the fact that it was Sunday, and the police stations were operating skeleton crews, Miller had to concede that it would have to wait until the following morning.
But first, he had to meet with Dixon and the Chief Constable, then present a press conference, and update the press with the latest details.
He, and only he was aware that the press conference was going to be based on a pack of lies, in an attempt to completely wrong-foot the four men, and make them think that they were home and dry.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Manchester City Police media centre. My name is DCI Miller, and this morning I would like to update you on the progress we are making in trying to detain the DWP attacker.”
Despite the fact that it was Sunday, the media centre was packed, as this story was still the nation’s major talking point. Rumours about Curtis Kennedy’s murder had been circling, and all of the media representatives wanted to hear the facts.
“Yesterday, the person who had previously been named as a suspect in this enquiry, was found dead. The body of twenty-two-year old Curtis Kennedy, of Sandybank Avenue, Hattersley was discovered in Sheffield. We have no idea how he managed to travel the distance from Glossop, where he was last seen on Friday evening, to the place where his body was found.”
The cameras were popping and flashing as Miller read out his statement.
“But one thing that we are now unclear about, is whether or not Curtis Kennedy was involved in the DWP attacks. Our initial investigations suggest that this was a very bizarre case of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. There is no evidence that Curtis had any links to the DWP attacks, and we can only assume that his presence in th
e alleyway in Glossop was relating to other business.” That was a loaded comment, and the journalists recognised it for what it was. Miller was suggesting that Kennedy was up to no good, but he wasn’t sure what, and whatever activity it was, he felt sure that it was in no way connected to the DWP attacks.
“I’m sure you will all appreciate that Curtis’s family would like to have their privacy respected at this very tragic time, and I would like to repeat that his presence in Glossop, outside a DWP worker’s home, is not being viewed with any suspicion relating to this case, and we are leaving South Yorkshire police to pursue their own investigations into this tragic incident.”
This was big news, and there was an outbreak of urgent chatter amongst the reporters. They had been convinced that Kennedy was the attacker.
Miller allowed the press staff a moment to settle down before continuing.
“However, there have been a number of significant developments in this enquiry over the past twenty-four hours, and I would like to show you this.” Miller held up a drawing. It was an artist’s impression mug-shot sketch. The man had scruffy, wispy hair, his face looked hollow, the eyes were menacing, and the drawing looked exactly how you would imagine an angry, unemployed, psychotic, cowardly attacker to look. The only person in the room who knew that it was completely bogus was the man holding it up. Miller had pulled up a random photo-fit face from the system from a case a few years earlier, sunk the eyes in a bit and stuck a mullet hair-do over the man’s shaved head, in a two-minute job.
“Do you know this man? We believe that this is the face that has been concealed behind that scarf, and that hooded top on the CCTV images previously released to the press.”
There was another wave of excitement. The face looked scary, and the media personnel totally bought Miller’s red herring. He hoped that the Cole brothers, and Hart and Wilson would, also.
“We need to speak to this person urgently, we believe that he lives in the South Manchester area, and we are appealing for anybody who recognises this face to call our incident room number on 0161 812 6767. Thank you.”
The Final Cut Page 29
