by Paul Gitsham
‘We’ve gone through the footage from the CCTV outside the hotel with a fine-tooth comb,’ said Richardson. ‘We assumed initially that the car had been taken from its spot, driven around the corner of the hotel to the fire exit to be loaded up, and then returned to its original space. It then stayed there until after it was picked up the next morning on the sales rep’s dashcam. But if that was what happened, that means that whatever was loaded into the boot of that car – and it’s almost certainly Anish’s body – would have sat in the car’s boot in the middle of a car park for several hours, which seems pretty risky.’
She projected a video onto the wall screen. ‘Sixty-eight minutes after we believe the car was loaded with Anish’s body, this happens.’
This time the shadow was of a person walking briskly back around the corner, again maddeningly out of view of the camera.
‘It could be the same person, or it could be a different, unrelated person, but it’s now almost twenty to three. It’s too early for anyone to be starting or ending their shift, and the kid on the reception desk hasn’t moved an inch for three hours.’
‘There’s a gap in the hedge along the service road that employees use to take a shortcut to the bus stop. Could it just be somebody cutting across the car park?’ said Ruskin.
Richardson gave a non-committal shrug. ‘It’s possible, but I’d wonder why? It’s not an especially busy residential area, and the bus doesn’t start running again for another couple of hours.
‘Anyway, even if the killer spent some time driving around, trying to find a dumping spot, sixty-eight minutes is plenty of time to drive out to the ditch, do what they did and then return, all without triggering ANPR cameras,’ she summarised.
‘We need to refocus the investigation on the Thursday night, and go back over everything,’ said Warren. In front of him he had a hastily scribbled to-do list. ‘First of all, alibis: we now need to know exactly what Anish’s family were doing on the Thursday night. We also need to double-check the whereabouts of Leon Grime and Nicholas Kimpton.’ He turned to Pymm. ‘Go back through all of the phone records that we have for that time period. See if they match any of the players.’
He turned to Ruskin. ‘It looks as though the killer changed the tyres of the hire car sometime between dumping the body and returning it. Check all the garages in the local area to see if anybody remembers changing all four tyres on a white Ford Focus. Presumably it was a rush job, so hopefully they remember it.’
‘What about the forensics in the hotel room?’ asked Hutchinson.
‘I’ve asked Andy Harrison to prioritise running all of those fingerprints through the database,’ said Warren. ‘It’ll take some time, but hopefully we’ll get lucky.’
‘If Anish was killed on the Thursday, then we know that those text messages he sent Friday and Saturday were definitely fake,’ said Pymm. ‘They must have been sent by the killer, which makes me wonder how he unlocked Anish’s phone.’
It was a good question and, depending on how the handset was secured, raised a couple of disturbing possibilities, including torture to get the PIN code.
‘How confident are you with the location?’ asked Warren. ‘Can you tell if they were sent from inside his flat.’
‘No, all I’ve got is the nearest cell tower. It could have been sent from anywhere within a two-street radius.’
‘Then let’s get door-knocking in the area, see if anyone remembers anyone strange hanging around, or if there’s any CCTV or dashcam footage,’ said Warren.
He looked around the briefing room. ‘We’ve spent a lot of time assuming that he was killed on the Friday or after. I’ll take responsibility for that. However, it wasn’t time misspent; we collected a lot of evidence. But let’s not jump to any more conclusions. As of now, everyone who was a suspect before is still a suspect now and we don’t yet know why he was killed or how. Let’s go back over everything again with a fresh eye.
‘We will catch whoever killed Anish Patel, and we will get justice for him.’
Karen Hardwick wiped her nose on a piece of toilet roll. She’d been in the cubicle for almost fifteen minutes, and the tears had finally subsided. How could she have been so careless? She’d seen the logo on the back of the person departing the Easy Break Hotel, added two and two together and made a million. The Video Analysis Unit had taken her at her word and focused on identifying anyone who may have followed the man they had been told was Anish Patel out the door.
The previous year, Karen had seriously contemplated leaving the police. The offer of a PhD studentship, applied for almost on a whim during her maternity leave, had nearly tempted her to return to the career that she had abandoned when she joined the force. Her role as a single mother had made her re-evaluate her priorities. Life as a research scientist was certainly not an easy option, but the hours would be more regular and she wouldn’t be placing herself in harm’s way; Ollie had never even met his father – was it right to risk making him an orphan?
And now this mistake. She’d been tired; a restless night with her teething son and the warm, over-heated hotel office had conspired to make her sleepy. Was that the reason for her error? How much time had they wasted? And now it seemed that the car that Anish Patel had hired, and that they had initially dismissed, was a potentially key piece of evidence – that could hardly be considered her fault, but she’d been the one to speak to Richard Latham, could she have questioned him more carefully?
She thought back to the letter that she’d received from the university after declining the offer of a place. It had been personally written by the professor who would have supervised her, expressing his disappointment, but suggesting that she contact him again if she changed her mind.
Should she?
She gave herself a shake. ‘Come on Hardwick, get a grip,’ she muttered to herself; she knew the real reason for her upset and it wasn’t her oversight. Tony Sutton had sought her out and admonished her gently, like any good line manager, but had made it clear that mistakes happen and that DCI Jones wasn’t going to hold it against her.
It was because days like this she missed Gary more than ever.
On the first case they’d worked together, he’d made a significant error that had almost derailed the investigation. He’d been embarrassed, but he’d dealt with it. Now she wanted nothing more than to go home, pour a glass of wine and tell him all about it. A hug, a kiss and by early evening, it’d be all right.
But that couldn’t happen.
It would never happen again.
Blowing her nose, she stood up. She was nearing the end of her shift, and her parents would be expecting her home to relieve them after an exhausting day with a rambunctious toddler. Gary might not be waiting for her, but the three people she loved most in the world would be back at her flat.
And that almost made up for his absence.
But before then, she had an idea. If her hunch paid off, then perhaps today hadn’t been a complete disaster.
Back in the office, Sutton picked up a pile of security footage printouts from the morning that Anish Patel supposedly checked out of the hotel.
‘I’ve stared at these until I’ve gone cross-eyed, and I can’t work out who is really wearing Anish’s clothes. The hoodie is too baggy and there are no face shots, so I’ve no idea if they have a beard. Whoever they are, they know where the cameras are,’ said Sutton, as he leafed through the rest of the pictures. ‘Look, they keep their head down all the way across the lobby. They’re even wearing gloves, so I can’t see what colour their hands are.’
‘Deliberate?’ asked Warren, as he leaned against Sutton’s cubicle wall. ‘It would have been a dead giveaway if the person in this picture didn’t have brown skin. Not to mention they’d have left fingerprints on the keycard.’
The two men kept on staring, but neither could see anything.
‘It could be a sibling, Leon Grime, Shane Moore or even Nicholas Kimpton,’ said Warren eventually. He looked at his watch – 7 p.m.; perhaps it was time to call
it a night.
He opened his mouth to make the suggestion when his mobile phone started ringing.
Karen Hardwick. She’d left the office without saying anything earlier; her eyes had been puffy and her make-up clearly re-applied. He really hoped she wasn’t phoning because she was beating herself up over her slip; it happened to the best of them.
She wasn’t.
By the time she’d finished, Sutton had already anticipated their next move, calling out to Moray Ruskin. All thoughts of an early evening had vanished.
‘Bring him in,’ ordered Warren.
Leon Grime looked nauseous as he took his seat in the interview suite. Beside him, the duty solicitor took a sip of coffee, before crossing his legs and resting his pad on his knee. Sutton reminded Grime of his rights, and the reason for his original arrest, making certain he could push his chair back quickly if the man vomited. He hated when that happened.
‘I assume that you have re-called my client to unarrest him and release him from his bail,’ said the solicitor. ‘We have already established that Mr Grime has an alibi for the day that Mr Patel was murdered, and that anyone could have had access to his tool kit.’
It was clear from Grime’s countenance that he wasn’t assuming any such thing.
‘Not yet,’ said Sutton. ‘We still need Mr Grime to help us clear up some details.’
‘And this couldn’t have waited?’ said the solicitor, looking pointedly at this watch.
Sutton ignored him.
‘First of all, let’s establish some background,’ said Ruskin. ‘You’ve worked at the Easy Break Hotel for sixteen years?’
Grime nodded.
‘Where were you before that?’
Grime’s Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘Unemployed.’
‘I see. And before then?’
Grime looked down at his hands. ‘In prison.’
‘For what?’ he asked.
Grime continued looking away, his neck flushing pink. His voice was quiet. ‘Dealing.’
‘Drugs?’ asked Sutton. Grime’s criminal record was neatly printed in front of them, but it was important to get the man into the habit of answering truthfully – it would make it easier to spot the lies.
Grime cleared his throat. ‘And aggravated burglary.’
Sutton made a show of looking over the printout. ‘Not much detail on here,’ he lied.
‘I had a knife in my pocket.’
The two detectives waited.
‘The homeowner was in the house. I waved the knife around to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid,’ he finally looked up. ‘But I never used it. It was just for show. I thought the house was empty.’
‘But you did punch her, didn’t you, leaving her with a broken nose and two black eyes?’ said Sutton. ‘A seventy-three-year-old widow, in her own house at two in the morning. Her car was on the drive, so the jury didn’t believe you thought no one was home. If you hadn’t pleaded guilty at the first opportunity you’d have received the maximum sentence.’
The solicitor cleared his throat. ‘This offence happened many years ago, when my client was a very different person. He has since lived an exemplary life.’
‘Was your employer aware of your previous conviction?’ asked Ruskin.
‘Never came up,’ Grime mumbled.
Sutton said nothing for a few beats, letting the tension build.
‘OK, let’s go back to the fire door. You said that you were unaware that the door lock was broken, and that the alarm had been bypassed.’
Grime licked his lips but said nothing.
‘How is that possible?’ continued Sutton. ‘You’re in charge of maintenance.’ He removed a pile of stapled sheets from his folder. ‘This is a copy of the logbook that needs to be filled in weekly, as part of the building’s safety checks. It’s a fire door, so it needs to be inspected regularly.’ He pointed to a scrawl at the bottom of one of the pages. ‘Is this your signature?’
Grime cleared his throat again, before nodding. ‘Yes,’ he whispered.
‘According to this, you diligently check all of the fire exits each week and sign to say that the locks work and the doors are secure. Either you haven’t been doing your job properly, or you’ve been ignoring the fact that anyone can enter or leave through that door without triggering an alarm. Which is it?’
‘No comment.’
His response wasn’t a surprise; doubtless his solicitor had advised him not to engage with the interview and see if they had enough evidence to charge him.
‘Your fingerprints are on the junction box that the CCTV camera is wired into, and we know that you have concealed the fact that the camera has been disconnected. Why would you do that?’
‘No comment.’
Sutton locked eyes with him.
‘Leon, we now have evidence that leads us to believe that Mr Patel was killed on the Thursday night, rather than the Friday morning. The murder most likely took place in room 201. His body was then removed from the hotel via that fire exit. A fire exit that you had ensured wouldn’t have CCTV coverage and wouldn’t trigger an alarm if it was opened. Anish Patel’s body was wrapped in a sheet from the Easy Break Hotel.’
Grime was now a decidedly green colour. Even his solicitor was edging away from him slightly.
‘No comment,’ he whispered.
‘Anish’s body was mutilated after he was killed to make identifying him more difficult. Your hammer and Stanley knife were used to do that.’
Grime said nothing.
‘The hammer and Stanley knife were found wrapped in towels, again from the Easy Break Hotel. The person who cleaned room 201 didn’t report any missing towels or sheets, indicating that either they were replaced or those used in the murder were fresh ones. Either way, the towel and sheets probably came from the locked laundry cupboard next door to room 201. I assume that you have access to the keys for that cupboard?’
‘I didn’t do it,’ said Grime finally, his voice cracking. ‘Anyone could have access to my toolbox and the keys to the cleaning stores are hanging in the main office. I was playing pool down the pub on Thursday night, ask anyone.’
‘We just have,’ said Ruskin. ‘Apparently, you went out in the first round. A bit unexpected, you usually make it to the semis at least. In fact, one of the other players said that you practically handed the game to your opponent.’
‘Sometimes you just have a bad night.’
Sutton pushed a copy of Grime’s mobile phone log across the table. ‘According to this, you texted your wife at 7.36 p.m. What did the text say?’
‘Just told her that I had a crap game, and I was sticking around for a few more drinks,’ said Grime.
‘And after the drinks, did you go straight home?’ asked Ruskin. ‘Your wife says she doesn’t know what time you arrived back. She went to bed about ten-thirty and when she woke up Friday morning you were asleep next to her.’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
‘What time did you get home then?’ asked Sutton. ‘Kicking out time at the club is about eleven-thirty, and it’s what, a ten-minute walk, maybe less?’
‘That’s probably about right.’
‘So, 11.45 maybe? Midnight?’ asked Ruskin.
‘I guess so.’
‘Well that’s where things get a bit strange,’ said Ruskin. ‘You see according to the people you were playing pool with, instead of sticking around and buying your opponent a drink – which is what is expected – you made an excuse about needing to get home to see your wife.’
Grime swallowed. ‘They must be mistaken. It was a couple of weeks ago.’
Ruskin made a show of looking at his notebook. ‘You left at 7.37 p.m., according to the CCTV from the bar. And despite it being such a short walk, you took your car. We have footage of you getting into it in the car park. Where did you go between texting your wife and finally getting home?’
Grime looked at his solicitor. ‘No comment.’
‘One more thing,’ said Sutton. ‘Why did
you turn your mobile phone off?’
Wednesday 7th December
Chapter 29
A night in the cells hadn’t loosened Leon Grime’s tongue. He still refused to explain where he had gone after leaving the pub on the night of Anish Patel’s murder. He also refused to make any comment on why he had ignored, or even facilitated, the use of the fire exit at the Easy Break Hotel as a means of entering the building covertly.
The closest they had got to any answer was his insistence that he didn’t recognise any of Anish’s family, nor had he ever met any of the men that Anish had contacted through Rainbow Hookups. His denials seemed genuine, but given his lack of cooperation so far, nobody was taking them at face value.
‘We know that Anish Patel died on the Thursday night, sometime after he checked into the Easy Break Hotel at 6.28 p.m.,’ said Warren, addressing the morning briefing. ‘The problem is that everything else is supposition. We assume that his body was moved to the dumping site in his hire car, which we believe was caught on CCTV at half past one. We think that the person captured leaving the reception on Friday morning was the killer. But again, we don’t know that for sure. We could really do with a much more precise time of death. That may be enough to rule out some of these suspects.’
On a whiteboard, Warren had drawn a grid with a timeline on the left-hand side.
‘Let’s start by looking for when we know that he was definitely alive,’ Warren made a mark at 18:28. ‘The Video Analysis Unit are certain that this picture on the reception CCTV is Anish checking in, not somebody dressed in his clothes.’
‘He accessed his online banking app at five past eight,’ said Pymm. ‘It looks as though he was just checking his balance. There were no transactions made.’
‘So he was still alive then,’ said Warren. ‘The question is whether he was alone or somebody – possibly the killer – was with him at that point? How long after then was he killed?’
There was silence around the table; the question was crucial. The footprints surrounding the ditch indicated more than one person was involved in the dumping and mutilation of the body. With the time of death still uncertain, a canny defence solicitor could suggest that their client was either not involved, or only took part in the cover-up. The thought that one of the killers might use the uncertainty to downplay their culpability left a bad taste in Warren’s mouth.
