Concrete Evidence; Crime Book 6 (Detective Alec Ramsay Crime Mystery Suspense Series)

by Conrad Jones

  Annie poked her head around the door. He restrained from telling her how rough she looked. There would be no thanks for honesty in this case. “You want to see us, Guv?”

  “Yes please,” Alec replied and returned to his desk.

  Annie opened the door fully and stepped inside carrying three cups in one hand, Stirling was close behind. He carried a tray with a jug of coffee and a plate of bacon sandwiches.

  “Coffee, Guv?” Stirling grunted with a smile.

  “Definitely,” Alec smiled. “How are you feeling?” he asked Annie.

  “Better for some sleep, thanks.”

  “Good,” Alec nodded. “We have some very important news from our friends in Benidorm.”

  “About the number plates?” Annie asked surprised.

  “Yes,” Alec nodded. “They traced the second plate to an abandoned hire business on the outskirts of the resort. Apparently, when the business folded, there were a number of vehicles left to rot. One of them was the vehicle that we are looking for.” Alec paused while Stirling handed him a mug of coffee.

  “That’s great news isn’t it?” Annie was confused by Alec’s demeanour. He didn’t appear enthusiastic about the discovery at all. “Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t good news?”

  Alec sighed and sipped his brew. “A Guardia officer went to investigate last night. From what they can gather, he found the number plate. It was on a campervan and for some reason he entered the vehicle.” Annie felt her nerves jangle. She guessed what was coming although she hoped that she was wrong. “They don’t know what he found because the vehicle exploded.” Alec shrugged. “First impressions are that it was an incendiary device.”

  “Is he dead?” Stirling asked.

  “Yes. Jose Peres, twelve years on the job, father of three.” Alec read from his notes.

  “Oh dear God,” Annie shook her head. “We warned them that there could be booby-traps when we sent the communiqué.” She was flabbergasted. “Why on earth did they send an officer alone and why wasn’t he warned?”

  “Their top brass are playing it down by claiming it was a translation issue.”

  “What is the Spanish for ‘complete fuckup’?” Annie scoffed. “The poor man and what about his family? I bet his wife will feel much better knowing it was a translation issue.”

  “I wonder what he found,” Stirling added as he bit into his sandwich. “There were no devices planted in San Francisco,” he shrugged as he chewed. “If his previous MO is applied then there was a victim in that campervan. We won’t know until forensics come in and that could be a while.”

  “How much credence are you giving to what Barton had to say?” Alec raised his eyebrows.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Annie sighed. She looked at the bacon sandwich in her hand and forced herself to bite it. Her appetite had vanished after hearing the news from Spain. “Barton implicated Geoff Ryder as being behind all of this. Can you believe that?”

  “We all met him a few times,” Alec shook his head. “He always seemed to be the most balanced member of the Ryder family to me. What do you think?”

  “He came across as a clever man to me,” Sterling nodded.

  “It seems ludicrous to me,” Annie agreed. “He said that both Harris and Taylor were represented by Ryder as young offenders,” Annie turned back to Alec. “If he’s telling the truth, we need to speak to Geoff.”

  “Even if he is right, he could be leading us up the garden path.” Alec said. “Let’s take it at face value and unless we find a solid link between Geoff and this case, we leave him alone. The family will crucify us in a libel court. Barton’s accusations have no standing with me, I’m afraid.”

  “Has he flipped?” Stirling asked. “We know he had a hard time in jail and I can understand him being pissed off but kidnapping Taylor, torturing him and then blowing his brains out is a little over the top,” he said sarcastically. “His visit to persuade Emilia Harris to tell us what she knew doesn’t help us either. He openly admitted that he frightened her into turning over information. That library book is key to Simon’s kidnap but now we don’t know if Harris had it hidden or Barton gave it to her.” He shrugged. “Then he kidnaps a detective. He has lost the plot if you ask me. The sooner he’s behind bars, the safer we’ll all be.”

  “It’s complicated enough without Barton being involved. All we can do is check up on what he’s saying.” She paused in frustration “His stunt with Becky throws what little credibility he had down the toilet. How can we take him seriously?”

  “We can’t,” Alec shook his head. “He murdered Brian Taylor in cold blood. We cannot use him as a source. Whatever he says, we need to find evidence to back it up.”

  “When are you planning to talk to Laura Ryder, Guv?”

  “I said that I would be at her house at eleven,” Alec said looking at the clock. “Now that is a conversation I’m not looking forward to.”

  “It will be a tough one,” Annie nodded in agreement. “How do you feel about me coming along, you know, the woman’s touch?”

  “Good idea,” Alec nodded.

  “Do we mention Geoff?”

  “We can ask how he is and when she last saw him and go with the flow.”

  “Agreed.”

  “While you’re there,” Stirling added, “I’ll chase up all the information that we’re waiting on. If we can nail down the recent travel movements for Harris and Barton, at least we’ll know which avenue is a dead end.”

  “Good,” Annie agreed. “Schedule a syndicate meeting for three o’clock this afternoon and if you hear anything from the hospital on Becky, call me.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Tod Harris woke with a start. His cell door was rattling loudly, the metallic booming echoed across the upper landing of the prison. “Fucking nonce!” a voice hollered through the door. “You won’t be locked in forever and when you come out, we’ll be waiting for you!” Another series of kicks rattled the door in its frame and then he heard footsteps running away. The banging and shouting roused the other inmates and they joined in with the abuse. The upper landing exploded with noise first but the two tiers below followed quickly. Threats and vile names bounced off the thick prison walls. Each one made him shrink further beneath his rough blanket. He felt like a rabbit in its warren, the dogs at the entrance waiting to rip him to pieces. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. He had already been attacked in the washroom. His nose was still painfully sore and the bruising beneath his eyes had surfaced. The guards despised him as much as the inmates did. He couldn’t expect any protection from them. In fact he was convinced that they would turn a blind eye each time he was jumped. There was no light at the end of this particular tunnel. When he heard keys rattle in the lock, his heart pounded in his chest. He was frozen in fear when the door creaked open.

  “Visit, Harris,” the prison officer growled. “Get yourself ready sharpish!”

  “Who is it?” Tod asked confused. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

  “Do I look like your private secretary?” the guard snapped. “Move it or I’ll drag you down there in your birthday suit.” Tod pulled his clothes on quickly and slipped his feet into his trainers. He walked onto the landing with trepidation. The caterwauling reached fever pitch. Three landings full of inmates went berserk, kicking their doors, banging cups against the metal and screaming abuse. “Sounds like you’re popular, Harris,” the officer sneered. “Mind you, if you will go around raping women and killing kids then you get what you deserve in here. Can’t say it would bother me if they skin you alive to be honest.” He carried on chirpily. “I’ve seen a few nonce attacks in my time,” he grimaced and sucked air between his teeth, “they’re never pleasant I can tell you. One bloke had his balls ripped off. Can you believe that?” he turned to Tod. “Literally ripped them off with their bare hands.” Tod walked in front of him, head bowed and shoulders hunched. He was trying hard not to listen. “Funny thing was that we only found one of them. I never worked that o
ut. Amazing really. Did it with their bare hands,” he repeated. “Makes your eyes water just thinking about it, doesn’t it?” Tod wanted to be sick. The hate from the inmates was palpable. He reached the stairs and took them two steps at a time but there was no escaping the deafening assault.

  When they reached the bottom landing, the officer led him through a series of four gates; each one was opened and locked tightly behind him. The screaming abuse became muffled but it hadn’t abated. The prison population wanted his blood as retribution for his alleged crimes and it was only a matter of time before they had their opportunity. He found it bizarre that convicted criminals could sit in judgment over him. How dare they? He was surrounded by scum, who felt justified enough to hand out their own brand of justice. ‘Fuck them,’ he thought.

  “Come on, over here,” the officer ordered. They reached the visiting area and he was taken into an anteroom used for sensitive visits such as marriage breakups or the communication of a death in the family. “Best to keep you out of the way.”

  Tod stepped into the room and nodded a silent hello to his brief, Ken Graff. The guard handcuffed him to the table and took his position behind him. “What is all this about?” Tod asked. “Are the police coming?”

  “They won’t talk to you again unless you have something new to say.” He gestured to his briefcase. “There have been some developments. I see it as an opportunity,” Graff smiled and cleaned his glasses. He shuffled his papers and put them back on. “You, my boy, are looking at a full life term with no chance of parole,” he looked over his lenses like a wise old professor. “You understand the enormity of the evidence against you don’t you?”

  “I understand the enormity of how much I’m being butt fucked by Rob Derry,” Tod protested. He sat sulkily in his chair and frowned like a petulant child. “I know that no one believes me but what can I do?”

  “You can start by not bullshitting me,” Graff snapped. “I’m on your side although lord only knows why I agreed to replace that spineless bitch, Bartlet. She should be struck off.” He spat as he spoke. “I won’t beat around the bush. The police have seen through your ‘Rob Derry’ game and let me tell you that it is just another link in the chains that they’re going to fasten you with for the remainder of your days. I was very embarrassed when they told me. I should have seen it straight away.”

  “What Rob Derry game?” Tod frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “They found a prepaid visa card used by this ‘Rob Derry’ on a trip abroad. It looks like they think that he’s killed abroad,” Graff removed his glasses and looked sternly at Tod. “It is in the name of Robdenn Derry, which I am reliably told is an anagram of, Brendon Ryder!” He watched Tod’s facial expression for his reaction. Tod frowned, deep creases rippled on his forehead. Far too many for a man his age, Graff noticed. If he was faking confusion, then he was doing a great job. He looked baffled and there was no response. “Has the cat got your tongue? You know who Brendon Ryder is don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “You didn’t think that the police would see through it?” Graff snorted. “You may think that it was very clever but it hasn’t helped your case at all.

  “Is it just a coincidence?” Tod shook his head and bit his bottom lip. “I didn’t realize that. Are they taking the piss?” he asked quietly. “Rob Derry isn’t his real name?”

  “No,” Graff wasn’t sure who was taking piss, Tod or the police. “They are not and what’s more, I agree with them that you made it up to throw them off the scent.”

  “I wouldn’t think of something like that. I am really not that clever.”

  “The police think that you did.” He sat back and waited for a reaction. “Do you know anything about his activity abroad?”

  “No. Of course I don’t.”

  “Have you been to Spain with him?”

  “No.”

  “They will find out and if we get blindsided in court, you’re screwed.”

  “I don’t know anything about it.”

  “You can appreciate that it doesn’t look good does it?”

  “It’s coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe that it is.”

  “So you believe them over your client?”

  “What I believe isn’t the issue, Tod. We have to look at what we think a jury will believe.” He shrugged. “Put yourself in my position,” Graff shrugged and tapped the file. “If you were on the jury and heard all this, what would you think?”

  Tod sat forward, his lips thin and pale, his eyes piercing and accusing. The bruising beneath them made him look much older. “I would think that Rob Derry made up his alias to trick me and the police.” He banged his fist on the table angrily. “I have been sitting here since day one protesting my innocence in these murders,” he tilted his head and stared at Graff, “I admitted the rapes and I have explained that I am being set up by Rob Derry or whatever the mad bastard is really called and no one is listening to me. Now they have worked out the bastard has been tricking me by using the name of a serial killer and that is my fault?”

  “I’m not saying it is your fault. I’m saying it is difficult to explain it away.”

  “This just further strengthens their resolve that I’m a murdering lunatic, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “So where is this opportunity that you are talking about?” Tod asked exasperated. “I can’t see it.”

  Graff shuffled uncomfortably. “The police are desperate to find this ‘Rob Derry’ character, whoever he may be. If you can identify him then we may be able to shift the burden of guilt onto him.” Graff frowned. “It is your only chance. I cannot see any other way out, Tod.”

  Tod sighed and looked at the ceiling. He shook his head. “Surely if they catch him, he will blame me for everything?” he sighed. “The evidence is already there. They’ll bury me no matter what I do.”

  Graff took a photograph from his file and placed it on the table. “The police showed you this picture before didn’t they?”

  Tod nodded.

  “This man kidnapped a police officer last night,” he looked Tod in the eyes. “Between you and I, do you recognise him?”

  Tod nodded. “He killed that kid a few years back.”

  “Let me enlighten you,” Graff shook his head. “He was sent to prison for kidnapping his nephew, Simon Barton,” Graff placed another photo down. “Do you recognise the boy?”

  Tod sighed and nodded his head. “Of course I do. That is the kid that they’re accusing me of killing.”

  “Exactly, now hold that thought,” Graff raised his hand. “His uncle’s name is Peter Barton. He was once a policeman, an analyst I believe, so he’s a very resourceful man.” Tod shifted his gaze from one picture to another. “He was released on appeal although his alibi was dubious.” Graff sat back and folded his arms. “He kidnapped a man called Brian Taylor, who he suspected of taking Simon. He tied him up in his cellar and questioned him for days. When the police arrived at his house to question him, he blew his brains out.”

  Tod frowned. His eyes lit up with realisation. “And then suddenly the kid’s underwear and library book turn up at my mum’s house?”

  “That would appear to be the case.”

  “He’s evil. I told them all along that he was. He killed my mum.” Tod looked at the photographs. His mind was racing. “Did he kill the cop that he took?”

  “She’s in intensive care.”

  “And he killed the Taylor guy?”

  “Yes, blew his brains all over the ceiling with a shotgun.”

  “I told them he was a lunatic.” Tod sat back and shook his head. “I’m terrified of him. That’s why I didn’t say anything when they showed me the photograph. He is a psychopath. I thought he would kill me and all my family if I said anything.”

  “What do you mean?” Graff half smiled.

  “That is Rob Derry or whatever his real name is.”

  Graff nodded and wiped swe
at from his forehead. “You know that holding this back hasn’t helped you at all?”

  “I was scared.”

  “That’s understandable,” Graff said gravely. “Identifying him will help our case.” He paused and thought about his next words. “I want to get some things straight in my mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “If you want me to help you, I need you to answer me honestly, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You admit being at the first scene but when you left the house, both women were alive and unhurt?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I’ve been saying this from day one.”

  “How do you explain your semen being at the second scene?” Graff asked gruffly. He twiddled his pen between finger and thumb.

  “Rob Derry planted it. I mean him, whoever he is” Tod tapped the photograph.

  “Peter Barton.”

  “Yes. Barton must have kept the condoms that I used.”

  “Feasible, I suppose. Didn’t you throw them away?”

  Tod sat forward and steepled his fingers. “Whenever we were in someone’s house, we used one bag for any rubbish and we always disposed of it away from the scene. We never flushed anything because it can be retrieved.” Tod lowered his voice. “He taught me that. Police training I bet?” He shook his head. “I think the bastard kept the condoms to set me up.”

  “Okay that may throw up a shadow of doubt but what about the thumbprint?”

  Tod held up his finger eager to answer. “He told me that they can pick up fingerprints using superglue, right,” he paused and looked over his shoulder at the prison officer, “it makes a raised imprint and once they have the raised print, it can be used to make a false print. Do you think that’s true?”

  “I don’t know the science behind it but we can check it out. It makes sense on the face of it,” Graff nodded and made notes. “I’m trying to eliminate all the evidence that puts you at the second scene,” he paused. “How do you explain the knife and the DVD at your home?”

  “Barton broke in and planted them,” Tod shrugged. “If he was a policeman then he could break in without leaving any sign couldn’t he?”