Death on High (The Lakeland Murders)

by Salkeld, J J

  Easter Sunday, 31st March

  Ray Dixon was glad to get some time on his own at last. The scan had come back clear, his headache had almost gone, although the back of his head was still sore to the touch. So Dixon didn’t touch it, and that seemed to work well. The previous evening the Chief had come and sat with him for half an uncomfortable hour, and that morning Gorham and some bright-eyed young DC from HQ had been round to take a statement. Dixon was just going through his answers again in his head when there was a knock at the door and Ian Mann walked in. His left arm was in a cast.

  ‘I thought you were inside?’ said Dixon, trying to sit up without letting his head touch the pillows behind him. It wasn’t easy.

  ‘There’s no prison that can hold me Ray, you know that.’ Neither man laughed.

  ‘Gory Gorham’s been round already, to take a statement.’

  ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘Sod all. I still don’t remember much, and even when I do I don’t think it’ll help you, or her either come to that. I was either concentrating on getting beaten up by those two lads or I was out cold and they’d moved on to Andy. But how come I was spotted anyway? I was sure I’d picked my moment perfectly.’

  ‘You had Ray, there was nothing you could have done. Spedding just happened to look your way, and the moon was pretty bright. It was just unlucky.’

  Dixon tried to nod, but only managed a small inclination of his head.

  ‘So when are they letting you out of here?’ asked Mann.

  ‘When the doc has been round. Probably in an hour or so.’

  ‘When are you going back to work?’

  ‘When my GP says I’m fit. They say I’m looking at a week or so, but it’s office duty only. Then I’ve got to start see the shrink, and they decide if I’m OK to go back properly.’

  ‘If not it’s the early pension for you I expect?’

  ‘Aye, that’s it. And then it’s the allotment job for me.’

  Dixon tried to look delighted at the prospect, but failed. For the first time since he’d really started looking forward to retirement, about five years into his service, he was beginning to realise how much he’d miss the job. And he really hadn’t expected that.

  ‘So did they charge you then Ian?’

  ‘No. There was lots of sabre-rattling and threats, but when it came to it they just bailed me pending enquiries. They’ll lean on the two clowns who attacked you and Andy and try to get something incriminating out of them, but it’ll do them no good. My brief says they’d be destroyed in the box, especially if they’re offered a deal, and anyway they weren’t even looking back towards me. Plus, I’ve told the truth anyway.’

  ‘Of course you have mate. So can you go back to work?’

  ‘Not a chance Ray. I’m suspended, and the Federation lawyer says that they’ll probably charge me, offer me a deal to resign, and then quietly drop the charges. He says I’ll have no choice really, because I need to preserve my pension.’

  ‘Now that’s something I never expected to hear you say, Ian.’

  ‘Me neither, but I’m not getting any younger, and what else could I do for work? My skills are limited to say the least.’

  ‘Specialised is how I’d put it. But can’t you fight it?’

  ‘Probably not. The Federation lawyer says the two clowns who had a go at you and Andy have no real previous for violence, so they’ll argue there was no risk to your life, and the bloke who attacked me wasn’t exactly a wild man either. So he says that they’ve almost got me on reasonable force.’

  ‘But that’s crazy Ian, how were you to know? They don’t wear their form round their necks, do they? And the bloke came at you with a bloody great iron bar.’

  Mann got up to go. He’d heard it all before, in his own voice and in his own head.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t bring you flowers Ray. Haven’t bought any since my mum’s funeral, and I was just a kid then. I can’t go near a florist without thinking of her.’

  Mann turned to go, then came back, and bent down close to Dixon’s head.

  ‘Between you and me mate, and never to be repeated, but I wanted to kill him. When I hit him I knew what I’d do.’

  ‘No way mate, you couldn’t have known what would happen. Not really. You’re just tired. Do me a favour though, and don’t repeat what you’ve just said to anyone, not even Andy. You understand me?’

  Mann nodded.

  ‘You take care of yourself Ray.’

  ‘You too, and I’ll see you on the other side of all this shit, you hear me?’

  Andy Hall drove up to Carlisle later in the day, and gave his formal statement. He’d insisted on the Federation lawyer being present. Val Gorham asked her questions, and Hall gave short, precise answers. When she’d finished, he asked if he could make an additional statement.

  ‘Certainly Inspector, but this is no place for a character reference for Sergeant Mann. You will have an opportunity to do that, if you so wish, at a later date.’

  ‘Very well’ said Hall calmly, ‘then I will submit a written statement via the Federation’s legal team. But let me make this very clear. In my view Ian Mann deserves a medal for what he’s done, and as far as I’m concerned he saved my life. All you desk-jockeys are just the same, wise after the event, and you wouldn’t have a clue what to do in a situation like that. And I make no bones about it, I didn’t either. It’s fifteen years since I last had any self-defence training, and I’ve never used my stick before in my life. When I was a young PC an old hand told me not to bother, because it stopped you using one hand, and he told me just to try to get the suspect on the ground, then just sit on him for a bit. No need for any fancy moves. It worked perfectly on drunk kids outside the Roebuck back in the old days, but I didn’t fancy my chances on Friday night.’

  ‘So why didn’t you just sit tight until help arrived? That would have been the prudent decision, Inspector.’

  ‘Are you serious? Look, I’m no expert on hands-on policing, and I know it, but this is the real world, and all your health-and-safety protocols aren’t going to stop bad people from doing bad things, and when they do we have to respond in kind sometimes. I had no idea what those two bastards were going to do to Ray, and I’ll be honest, I had my doubts that I could stop them, but I was always going to try. In the end, it’s them against us. Always has been, always will be.’

  Val Gorham switched off the tape.

  ‘Grandstanding like that will do you no good, Inspector.’

  Hall fought to control his temper, and got up to go. The Federation lawyer seemed keen to get him out of there too.

  ‘I tell you this’ said Hall, jabbing his finger at Gorham. ‘If you are stupid enough to bring Ian to trial a jury will get to hear all that, and more besides, and they’ll be able to decide whether he deserves a criminal record or a medal. I know which side my money is on. And imagine all the questions that you’d have to answer if he was exonerated and seen as what he is, an authentic hero and a colleague to be proud of.’

  Hall drove back to Kendal on the old A6, keeping to the speed limits and enjoying the view. There was still a bit of snow on the tops, but the trees were just starting to show tinges of green. There were even a few lambs about. He dug about in his CDs and found the Stornoway album that the kids had given him for his birthday. It was a perfect match for the drive.

  Easter Monday, 1 April

  Andy Hall was due to be on leave, but the kids understood when he said he’d have to go in to work. It wasn’t the first time it had happened since his wife had left home. He’d felt a pang of something when they said that they’d go round to their mum’s rented flat for lunch instead, but by the time he reached the station he was thinking of nothing else but work. That had happened before too.

  He spent an hour with the CPS, another two with Robinson, and when he came back to his office his email inbox was full too. Hall did his best for another hour, then stopped for lunch. He’d brought nothing with him, so he decided to walk down to
the M&S in town. Jane had her head down, so as he pulled on his coat and left his office Andy called out to her. ‘Can I get you anything in town? I’m just going to Marks’s for a sandwich.’

  ‘I’ll stroll down with you. I could do with a break.’

  They didn’t say much as they left the station, or as they started on the ten minute walk down the hill into Kendal.

  ‘Have you spoken to Ian today?’

  ‘Yes, he called me when they bailed him. We only spoke for a minute.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘You can imagine. From what he said it looks as if they’re going to hang him out to dry whatever happens. The Federation lawyer is saying that he should take an offer if he’s given one, but only after he’s got confirmation that there’ll be no criminal prosecution.’

  ‘Will he take that? I can’t see it myself.’

  Hall looked across at Jane.

  ‘That would have been my view too. I can’t see Ian outside the job any more than I could see you back looking at stuff under a microscope or something. It’s just who he is. But the way he was talking I think he’ll take it. They’ll fire him, but he’ll keep his pension. And both sides will have some kind of gagging agreement, so they won’t be able to bad-mouth him afterwards. So it could be worse, I suppose.’

  They walked on side-by-side in silence. Hall was still thinking about his conversation with Mann. ‘I think he just doesn’t like the way the job’s going now’ said Hall, as they crossed the road at the lights on the edge of the town centre. ‘But I wonder what he’ll do if they do chuck him out.’

  ‘He’d make an excellent villain, Andy’ she laughed.

  ‘Too right. He’d be a nightmare for us, wouldn’t he?’

  On the way back up the hill Jane asked about Vicky Harrison. She couldn’t wait any longer. ‘So it’s all over then?’

  ‘Yes, we’ll still go for an open verdict at the inquest next month, and that’ll let us keep the file open, but the chance of a new witness coming forward is nil I’d say. CPS says we can’t charge either of them with anything, not even walking without due care and attention, so when the two of us are eventually sent out to see out our days doing school crossing patrol in Millom or Wigton or somewhere there’ll be no-one left to take an interest.’

  ‘What if one of them confessed?’

  Hall shook his head firmly. ‘Not going to happen, is it?’

  ‘So they’re free and clear then.’

  ‘Probably, but you never know. There might be a development someday, and I hope they’ll both carry that thought around with them every day from now on. Just think how long it was before the Lady in the Lake case ever even came to trial. But in terms of active investigation by us it’s over. Is that absolutely clear, Detective Constable?’

  ‘Yes Inspector, it is absolutely clear.’ She would have saluted if it wasn’t for the carrier bag in her hand.

  Ian Mann was glad to get back to his own house in Kendal that evening. He went round to see his father, and told him everything. ‘Before I hit him I knew dad, I knew he wouldn’t be getting up again.’

  Mann’s dad got up from his chair, walked over and put his hand on his shoulder. Mann couldn’t remember the last time, when his mum died perhaps, and he felt the weight of the old man’s hand on his right shoulder. His dad didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

  When he’d walked home again Mann was going to call Andy Hall, and ask him out for a drink, but he didn’t. He knew that if he did he’d tell him what he’d told Dixon and his dad, and he knew that he shouldn’t. So he got the vacucum cleaner out, then walked round to the British Raj for a takeaway. It was his favourite, and he’d missed their prawn pathia more than most things.

  When he’d cleared up he checked his email, and out of habit he checked his old alias too. The account was still active. And there was an email from an hour or two before. It was Ben Brockbank, asking if he fancied a beer. ‘No hard feelings’ Ben had said at the end. Mann thought about it for a moment before he emailed back. ‘I’ve got a busted arm so I can’t drive, but I’ll see you in The Brewery in Kendal in an hour if you’re up for it.’ He signed the email ‘Ian’.

  Twenty five minutes later Mann set out to walk into town, and he’d just ordered a pint when Brockbank came in. Mann bought another, and they looked around for a table. One of the old mash tuns became available, and they settled in. Mann undid his sling slowly and rested his cast carefully on the table.

  ‘Cheers’ said Brockbank, ‘how’s the arm?’

  ‘It’ll be fine in a while. They pinned it. So what about you? They bailed you pending further enquiries?’

  ‘Aye. It was your mate Hall who interviewed me. He seemed like a fair bloke.’

  ‘He is, but they’ll still want to charge you with plenty. I hope you like prison food.’

  Brockbank laughed.

  ‘Never tried it, and I might say the same for you.’

  ‘True enough. So what does your brief say?’

  ‘Do you really want to know?’ Mann nodded. ‘OK then, he says that you’d be the prosecution’s main witness, and because of what happened they’re not going to want you giving evidence against me or anyone else if they can help it. And your lot know that we’ll say you egged me on. Sorry marrer, but that’s how it is.’

  ‘I know, don’t sweat it, just do what you’ve got to do. So your brief thinks you might get off with the lot?’

  ‘Oh no, not that. He thinks they’ll offer us a deal. I go guilty on a few, avoid a trial, and I don’t go to jail. What with my decent record and everything, plus the fact that I’m needed on the farm.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to take it on? Or is it just bullshit to pour over the judge?’

  ‘No, I’m going to take over at home. I wasn’t, but my dad had a heart attack night before last, just a warning like and he’s back home already, but that’s him finished at work. Even he agrees now.’

  ‘I’m sorry Ben. Did it happen when he found out you’d been nicked?’

  ‘Aye, probably, but don’t you worry about it marrer. It’s not your fault, and me mum’s delighted really. You probably did us all a favour, because he’d just have dropped down dead in a year or two otherwise.’

  ‘But will you be able to manage financially? I thought it wasn’t possible.’

  ‘With the help from a few state handouts, aye, we’ll manage. I told the wife we should have about ten kids, like you see on daytime TV, and the benefits would give us a better living than the farming job ever can. Farm a family, like. But she’s not having any of that.’

  ‘I know, or you wouldn’t be in the pub with me otherwise.’ They both laughed. ‘But I’m pleased for you Ben, I really am.’

  Brockbank went and got another round in. Mann was glad to see that Brockbank only had a half for himself, and Brockbank saw that Mann had noticed.

  ‘Once a copper eh?’

  ‘Aye, but not always a copper Ben. I’ve got to face up to that now.’

  ‘Really? I’m sorry to hear that mate, really I am. So what will you do, if they don’t send you to jail and chuck away the key?’

  Mann shrugged, then winced. ‘I don’t know really Ben. I’ll just see what happens over the next few weeks, then decide.’

  ‘And what about that Subaru? Do you get to keep it?’

  ‘No, they’ve taken it back. I usually drive a diesel Focus.’

  ‘Of course you do Ian’ laughed Ben. ‘You know I never picked you for a cop, it never once crossed my mind, but you never looked quite right in that Scooby somehow. I should have guessed.’

  ‘I was too old for it, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Maybe a bit. And I’m probably going to have to sell mine too.’

  ‘Why? You’ve spent a small fortune on that car.’

  ‘I’ll have to pay back some of the money I got from our recent night shifts marrer. My brief told me to volunteer to do it, so I have. My old man is all for us selling stuff off the farm, but ther
e’s no way that’s happening. So the car has to go. They didn’t make those bastard bankers do that when they got caught, and it’s their bonuses that have been bidding up the price of farmland. So it’s not fair like. But you know what, I’m not bothered about selling it.’

  Mann looked surprised.

  ‘Really marrer, I’m not. I reckon it’s time to grow up and graft a bit, now I’m a dad and all. Try to make my old man proud of me, while I still can.’