Antman

by Robert V. Adams

  'Surprise surprise. And I thought Police Forces were so cohesive and team-minded. Has he been upsetting you? You surely aren't serious about the police as an ideal organisation?'

  'Forget me for the moment. I'll tell you when you've told me your news. As for my comment about happy Police Forces, to be honest it was tongue-in-cheek. A cousin of Laura's married a copper and the tales he used to tell made it sound pretty dreadful – rather like the average University graduate common room.'

  'Really?'

  'Don't sound so surprised. Human nature is human nature. Change the social class, take off the uniforms and put a few letters after some people's names and you've changed nothing fundamental about their dealings with each other.'

  'Point taken. Anyway, the gist of the Bradshaw situation is he's basically a sod. His approach to this case is to rule out anything that he hasn't already thought of. The only new details he will admit to his scheme of things have to be incorporated into his existing pattern first and then emerge in his chosen timescale as his own ideas.'

  'From my brief contact with him I can confirm his star qualities,' exclaimed Tom with cheerful irony.

  'I'll wring his bloody neck.'

  'Unwise. You'd be detected.'

  'Don't count on it with that crowd.'

  'Is that it?' asked Tom.

  'No, the remainder is a hundred and forty-nine ways in which Bradshaw refuses to acknowledge the danger posed by an extremely odd and perhaps thwarted man who has bottled it up for – who knows – ten, twenty, thirty years and may only now be starting to let it all out. That's our murderer.'

  'There is one other item. I'm surprised you haven't mentioned it. You must know.'

  'Go on.'

  'I think Bradshaw still regards me as a possible murder suspect. That first time he came to see me, he covered pretty much the same ground you did. Only, I was one of his suspects. I could tell. Put it this way, he wouldn't exactly have been interested in asking me to act as adviser to any murder inquiries. We've had a few inquiries since – discreet ones. I wouldn't put it past him to have me followed.'

  'You've no evidence of that.'

  'Someone was following me that day I went to Branthorpe to meet Faith Wistow, the clerk to the coroner.'

  'Bradshaw was having you followed? I'll see about this. Leave it with me.'

  Tom waved her back into the chair.

  'Forget it. I wouldn't waste your time. I'd rather have you here for a few minutes longer.'

  She sat down. 'It couldn't have been Bradshaw. At that stage he wasn't that involved in the case.'

  'It doesn't matter. Anyway, now I've a lecture to prepare.'

  She paused, reflecting on what he'd said earlier.

  'Did you mean what you said just now, about preferring to have me here.' Tom looked directly at her. There was a moment of complete eye contact.

  'Yes,' he said. 'I meant every word of it.' Chris looked quite embarrassed. 'I tell you what,' said Tom, 'I'll make you another coffee. Have you time?'

  'I've changed my mind about going to Leicester,' she said. 'There's too much going on here. I'll go into work as usual.'

  Chapter 14

  Bradshaw was fuming round the office, partly at the lack of movement on the case, partly at being kept at arm's length by Tom Fortius. Even more, because he sensed Chris Winchester was beyond his control.

  'I've the chief breathing down my neck about the lack of progress on this murder inquiry. There'll be jobs on the line soon. What have we got from the scene of crime, Morrison?'

  'They're still working on it, sir.'

  'I want to know as soon as there's any development. Where's Inspector Winchester?'

  'Out all day, sir.'

  'Nice weather for a day's leave, if you can spare the time.'

  'The DCI's on a course I believe, sir, at Leicester University.'

  'Travelling halfway across the country at public expense to meet a load of cloud-niners.'

  'They have that centre where they do research on riots and their control, sir. A few of us have been for conferences and short courses.'

  'The last thing I want today is a conference or short course,' Bradshaw snapped. 'I want a result, PDQ.'

  'Sir?'

  'Pretty damn quick, unlike you, Morrison. I went to that Centre once. Strikes me they could do with some of that for their own students. I read about that sit-in last week. Can't even control them.'

  'I think DCI Winchester is on a course in the forensic area, sir – I don't know the title – something to do with scenes of crime work and murder investigations. Sounded very relevant to me, sir.'

  Bradshaw continued as though Morrison hadn't responded:

  'Morrison, I need a report for ACC Deerbolt pronto. Summary of progress so far. Suspects, interviews, current lines of investigation. I'll be writing it, but you supply me with the info.'

  'Sir, DCI Winchester – '

  'Never mind her. She's out of the frame today. Unless I can reassure my paymasters we have this one in hand, Morrison, heads will be toppling. Understand?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'By a quarter to nine.'

  'I'll try, sir.'

  'Never mind try.'

  'I'll – I'll do it, sir.'

  The way to the place where Bradshaw's heart would be if he had one, was by agreeing with him, unreservedly.

  'Good man. You can trot round to headquarters when I've finished, so it's on the chief's desk when he walks in. Got your car with you?'

  'Sir.'

  'On second thoughts, have it ready by eight thirty. I'll deliver it myself on my way to my meeting. I want to bend the ear of the chief's secretary about that chief officers' trip to Copenhagen.'

  Bradshaw was impressed by Morrison. He was a good officer, willing as well as bright.

  * * *

  At ten to nine, a lone driver stopped for a call of nature on the back road from Tickton past Weel, over the River Hull towards Beverley and found a man's body lying in a ditch, barely covered by loose brushwood. It was an hour before he decided to call the police.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Brill came into the office, looking flustered. 'Where's Bradshaw?'

  'Left in a hurry in his shirtsleeves,' said Livesey.

  'I asked where, not what was he wearing or doing?'

  Livesey skipped a pirhouette and sang:

  'I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard called Jack.'

  Deerbolt had collected the nickname of wizard a few years back. In the face of pressure to cut the budget, he'd successfully used the threat of rising local crime and worsening clear-up rates to persuade everybody from the Police Committee, Chief Constable to the Home Office to abandon budget cuts and preserve existing ratios of officers on the streets to other staff.

  Morrison spoke up. He explained what Bradshaw had instructed him to do. Brill shook his head.

  'The man's no idea. This creates endless problems. He's by-passed me, to say nothing of DCI Winchester. She'll go ape-shit when she comes in.'

  * * *

  Bradshaw was back in his office by nine-fifty. He decided to hold a meeting with key members of Chris's team in the investigation room, which was marginally quieter. Chris walked in at ten fifteen to find the meeting taking place.

  'Ah, Chief Inspector,' breezed Bradshaw, clearly embarrassed. 'I was going to call you, but I gathered you were out all day on a course.'

  Chris gave him a blank stare, livid at being left out of she knew not what:

  'I cancelled it, sir, because of this murder inquiry. I left a message on your voice-mail to say I'd be a little late in this morning because I was calling at the University on my way in, in connection with the investigation.'

  Bradshaw tried to bluster his way through:

  'I've had meetings so haven't had time to pick up the messages. I understand you've informed the ACC our suspect is already in the frame.'

  'I certainly have not. That isn't my understanding of the situation at all. It sou
nds as though you men are managing quite well without me, so please excuse me. I've a phone call to make.'

  She made for the doorway.

  'Chief Inspector,' Bradshaw called.

  'Did you wish to speak to me, sir?' she asked icily.

  'I do yes, so come back in and close the door.'

  'I will speak to you, alone, sir,' she said with emphasis, as she closed the outer door.

  Bradshaw glared at Brill, Livesey and Morrison. Glancing meaningfully at each other, they exited through the connecting door to the main office.

  'If we're to work together, Chief Inspector, I expect a high degree of co-operation and mutual respect between my officers.'

  'My sentiments exactly, sir. But if co-operation and mutual respect are code-words for "come into line", I need to know first whether you intend to repeat this performance.'

  'I'm being patient because you're new, Chief Inspector. Don't push me.'

  Chris's voice was shaking with anger. 'I'm frustrated you've not informed me before going over my head to officers in my team carrying out the investigation for which you've made me responsible. I also object to you having interviewed Professor Fortius recently without informing me, while I was out on another call.'

  'I won't have any of my officers acting the maverick.'

  'It's hardly maverick of me to want to consult you before making key decisions about appointing an entomological adviser. Not so yourself. Is this your idea of delegation? Giving me a job to do then walking all over it. Could I request a transfer back to my former unit, sir?'

  'With the loss of rank? Think carefully, Chief Inspector.'

  'My professional integrity is worth more than a temporary promotion, with a kick in the teeth now and again.'

  'If you carry on speaking to me like this, Chief Inspector, you'll be facing a disciplinary.'

  Chris hesitated:

  'I'm biting my tongue, sir, but I'm still waiting.'

  'Waiting for what! You've got a bloody cheek.'

  'If you want this investigation carried out by me, I carry the buck and I will be the first point of contact with my officers.'

  Bradshaw took a deep breath.

  'You're a lucky woman. Officers have been suspended for less. Let's be clear about this. If you run the show, you carry the can if it turns out to be full of worms.'

  'I understand perfectly, sir.'

  'Stick your understanding with your insolence. Do you agree?'

  'It's all I ask.'

  'Call them in,' he said without looking her in the eye.

  'I need to share a conclusion with you first, sir, and make a request.'

  'Spit it out.'

  'Professor Fortius isn't our murderer, sir.'

  Bradshaw looked up from his papers. 'Go on.'

  'That's it, sir.'

  'You came by this conclusion and happened to call in to share it with me.'

  'I was in his office on other business, yes, sir.'

  'I don't believe this. One of my key detective inspectors goes sick, they send me another and she goes soft on me. Next I know, she'll be running about with one of our suspects.'

  'Professor Fortius has been eliminated from my inquiries, sir. I've called in to ask whether you'd agree to him acting as adviser to this investigation.'

  'What! You can't have that man.'

  'Can you suggest anyone better qualified?'

  'No, but I daresay I could.'

  'I hope it's quick. Our forensic psychiatrist says another murder is likely if we don't apprehend the killer within days, preferably hours.'

  'You are pulling my leg now. No, you're about to tell me this professor is already a part-time special in this Force.'

  'No, sir.'

  'A private detective.'

  'Not to my knowledge.'

  'He reads Agatha Christie then.'

  'He may do. I've no information on his reading habits. I'm making the suggestion having had sight of a preliminary forensic report on the latest body.'

  Bradshaw leaned forward. Chris continued:

  'They're still holding out on the cause of death, sir. But ante-mortem insect damage to the body is confirmed. The predators in this case are ants and Professor Fortius is one of this country's leading authorities on predation by ants.'

  Bradshaw shrugged. He looked beaten.

  'You've discussed this, er, ant business with Forensics, I take it.'

  Chris nodded:

  'The proposal that we approach someone with the reputation of Professor Fortius came from them.'

  'I take it he's on their list of recognised forensic people.'

  'You mean is he a forensic entomologist?'

  'Whatever they call themselves.'

  'No he isn't as it happens. You are aware, sir, of the view in Forensics that the success of a prosecution at the far end of an inquiry in a case where there are special circumstances in the deaths, can depend almost entirely on which forensic specialists you choose, their quality and credibility in court.'

  'Of course I'm aware,' said Bradshaw irritably.

  'Our usual person, Dr Blackledge, supports my recommendation. Apparently, her expertise, and that of her colleagues, lies in post-mortem damage, not ants. I'm picking up the vibes from Forensics that we need to focus on the possibility of ants being used as an aid to the killing.'

  Bradshaw shook his head in apparent disbelief

  'I don't know. What will they think of next? I'm getting too old for this kind of thing. I s'pose I don't watch enough late night TV. By the way, your colleagues are still waiting.'

  'I have another request to make first, sir,' she said and Bradshaw missed the steel in her eye.

  'Might as well spit it out now,' he said unsuspectingly.

  'Sir, this team is adequate only as a core. We're doing very little and achieving almost nothing with this investigation. We aren't even running behind our killer, let alone keeping up. The high media profile we're likely to attract once people realise there's a multiple killer at large makes a larger scale police investigation a necessity.'

  Shortly after, as Chris closed the door behind her, she heard with satisfaction Bradshaw's long exhaled breath and the thump of his beaten hand as it fell limply onto the desk. The officers in the nearby office heard Bradshaw's door open. Chris walked with a light step down the corridor. She had secured a slight but significant concession, subject to higher management approval, as was made apparent. Three groups of officers would be established, with their numbers still to be confirmed. After Forensics had checked the data and reported on each scene of crime, this group would carry out interviews and house to house searches in the vicinity of each crime, taking finger prints and hair, saliva and DNA samples. These would be tested against any swabs collected at each scene of crime, as well as against samples held in all Police Forces in the region – West Yorkshire, East Yorkshire, Northumbria and South Yorkshire. The second group would carry out a computer check on every adult male over seventeen within a fifty mile radius of Hull. All Schedule One offenders, anyone with an offence of sex or violence within the last ten years, would be followed up, anyone in a mental institution within the last five years and anyone escaping and still on the run, while serving a custodial sentence of more than five years. The third group would check for correlations, and irregularities, in the records of any employee of the universities and other educational institutions in those towns where there were facilities for teaching and/ or research into biology and zoology.

  Chapter 15

  Within half a day, the headquarters of the investigation team was transformed. It now extended to three offices, having overflowed into two additional empty rooms further down the corridor. To give Bradshaw his due, he had bent Jack Deerbolt's ear and moved a few local mountains. Deerbolt had eighteen officers transferred from other duties and assigned to the murder investigation. Chris took it in her stride and behaved as if nothing had changed.

  * * *

  The call from Forensics came through to Brill's
office about forty-five minutes later.

  'Forensics here. About the ID of that body. We've had some good luck with the dental records. They're a match with a person we've been searching for. We're checking the prints now. Should have confirmation one way or the other within the hour.'

  'Who is it?'

  'We may have killed two birds with one stone. Sorry about the pun. A bit of an oddball, name of Martin John. Been in and out of various institutions – prisons, mental hospitals – for years. On this occasion, being treated in a unit for people with severe mental health problems.'

  The other man clapped a hand to his forehead: 'Oh no! Not Cortham Hall.'

  'How did you know?'

  'A few of my friends have had dealings with it.'

  'You must be psychic.'

  'Never mind that. I’m devastated. Our unknown killer has probably murdered our main suspect.'

  'Watch DCI Winchester,' whispered Livesey. 'They say she's a witch and she's cast a spell over Bradshaw. There's a rumour he's due to start behaving like a human being from next Monday. Careful she doesn't try her magic on you.'

  'Piss off,' said Morrison.

  'Constable Morrison, any problems?' Chris called from the door of the main office, holding the fax Brill had just passed her.

  'No, guv,' said Morrison hastily.

  'Good, you'd better see this.'

  Livesey mimed her words, right in Morrison's face. Morrison pushed him away. 'Right, guv.'

  Morrison disengaged from the gossiping group, got up, walked over, took the proffered slip of paper from her hand and read aloud:

  'Report on ID of murder victim – sorry ma'am, body. Martin John, formerly of Landing Lane, Whitby, more recently Cortham Hall mental health unit. Oh, bloody hell.'

  'The absconder? Yes.'

  Knowing glances and comments crossed the room thick and fast.

  'What was that about solving the murder investigation, Morrison?'

  'I suppose that nutter killed the others and chopped himself up.'