She could feel Roper’s eyes upon her and deliberately omitted to give the barrister’s name in case he knew him. Was that the reason he was here? To find out what they knew? To pass on information to his friend?
‘Mr Ray will be interviewed later today regarding a cold case where we have DNA evidence connecting him to the crime. This was, for those who are unaware, a violent attack on a lady called Jean Weetwood, who was out walking her dog on the same moorland as Kylie was found. Ms Weetwood was subjected to a violent rape and apparently left for dead. The strategy will be to interview him first about this historical crime. Once he has had the opportunity to comment, he will be charged. This charge will be used to have him remanded to our cells for three days. He will then be interviewed about the murders and attempted murder of one of our own. After this morning’s searches, let’s hope we have more evidence to help secure his convictions.
‘Before I open the meeting and go around the room to see what you have for us, I want you all to know that our colleague and friend Wilkie Connor is leaving hospital today. His recovery is likely to be a slow one, I am told. For those unaware, he was diagnosed as having suffered a serious brain injury from the impact of the car and, as most of you already know, he has spent time in the intensive care unit where he was taken directly after the accident. He is now having to re-learn how to eat, use the bathroom, brush his teeth, put on his shoes – all the things we take for granted…’ Her voice wavered. ‘When he woke out of the coma, he couldn’t talk. He’s starting from scratch. We will do everything we can to continue to support him and his wife, Fran.’ She took a look sideways to see the Divisional Commander looking straight ahead with a blank expression. She took this as an indication that he didn’t want to add anything. ‘OK, so, down to business!’ Charley looked around the room to find the face of the custody sergeant. ‘Anything?’
‘I am reliably informed that Mr Ray’s barrister will be joining us at about eleven a.m. Danny Ray is under constant supervision. As advised, our officers are not speaking to him, but we are recording anything he says. At the moment, however, he remains silent.’
‘The team that went to his place of work, DC McDonnell, Nicky, anything?’ asked Charley.
‘Firstly, can I just say that the staff at the newspaper appear to be in total shock. However, they are co-operating fully. There was nothing in his desk drawer other than what I would consider the normal office equipment that we all use on a daily basis. However, we have seized his desk diary, which we’re hoping may show us where he was on the dates of the incidents, or indeed what he might have written in the diary to justify being out of the office. And ma’am, I’ve been assured by the editor that they don’t condone the use of drones to obtain information.’
Next up was the team that had the job of recovering Danny’s vehicle and the search of his garage.
‘Vehicle recovered, boss, to the undercover garage at HQ, where a full examination is underway. In the passenger well we discovered a piece of piping and some gaffer tape. And there was a camera drone in his garage. I’ll update you as and when we have any more for you.’
Sergeant Fennell was representing the POLSA search team. ‘The team is still at the house, boss. As you saw for yourself, Mr Ray had his own mini incident room. Photographs on the wall are being removed in two halves, on boards, just as they were in situ, so they can be brought into the incident room and displayed as was.’
Charley’s eyes lit up. ‘Great idea!’
Sergeant Fennell continued, to a captivated audience. ‘There is a mass of clothing to be recovered. Over two hundred exhibits have been seized so far, including tools. But I don’t want to steal your detective’s thunder…’ The sergeant scanned the room and his eyes fell on Mike Blake.
‘Mike?’ Charley asked, a hint of curiosity in her tone.
‘Photographed in situ, boss, beneath an old wax coat which is bagged, tagged and in our possession, but, I thought you would like to see these in person.’ He held up two labelled plastic bags. In one was a left shoe and in the other a right one. ‘Pretty sure these are the brown brogues, boss.’
Charley could hardly contain her excitement. ‘Get them off to Forensics immediately for confirmation they’re the ones in the pictures.’
Mike looked hesitant.
‘Are you done?’ she asked, giving a sideways glance at Roper – surely he might want to pat his officer on the back, even if he had no kind words for her.
‘Yes, yes, but if I could have a word afterwards, ma’am, that’d be great.’
Charley tipped her head in his direction, puzzled that after that one, glorious revelation Mike should have turned shy.
When the briefing was over, Divisional Commander Roper was the first to leave, with nothing more than a slight nod of the head. There was no ‘well done team’ and she felt aggrieved on behalf of her team. Purposefully, she went to the door and thanked each individual as they left. With work still to do to keep Danny Ray off the streets, the next briefing was planned for six p.m.
Mike Blake was the last to leave. He shut the door before turning to her, his face serious.
‘Danny Ray’s computer was still on when I was waiting for the POLSA team to go in to search. I think you should know Roper’s email address was on his contact list.’
‘Is that all? I wouldn’t have thought that unusual since they play golf at the same golf club.’
Mike stopped her. ‘No, listen, before you say anything else … He’s in a group with whom Danny Ray shares indecent images.’
Charley was taken aback and tried to think fast. ‘That doesn’t necessarily prove that Roper looks at them – and if he hasn’t forwarded them on, then there is no offence.’ Why was she defending him? ‘We will need to seize Roper’s computer, though.’
Sergeant Blake, Ricky-Lee and Annie Glover worked diligently. Mike and Ricky-Lee would soon commence the first interview and Annie would join Charley to watch it via the video link in her office. The family liaison officers would now be required to update the families of the victims, including those of Jean Weetwood.
‘Make sure Wilkie is aware of what’s happening,’ Charley said. ‘I want him to feel part of the arrest.’
At one p.m., Sergeant Mike Blake and Detective Ricky-Lee Lewis entered the interview room. On the video link, Charley and Annie could see the featureless room. It had no natural light; it was plain, uncluttered and business-like. The prisoner, dressed in a light blue, cotton, one-piece prisoner-issue suit, sat with his back to the officers. Charley and Annie could see clearly that he was dishevelled and unshaven. Before the tape started, he was asked to turn around to face the interviewing officers, but, instead, he settled himself in his chair next to the robust figure of his brief, Mr Thompson, with a straight back, his feet flat to the floor and hands clasped on his lap. His head faced forward, eyes staring at the blank wall, as if he intended to take that stance for the duration of the forty-five-minute tape. The officers sat behind a grey-topped wooden table. Mr Thompson showed the officers – immaculately dressed in suits, collars and ties – his open palms as he shrugged his shoulders.
‘I can’t make my client turn around, just as much as you can’t make him turn around. It would be classed as assault,’ Mr Thompson said.
Ricky-Lee pressed the buttons to start the recording and little lights glowed in response.
‘For the purpose of the digital recorder,’ Sergeant Blake pulled up a pristine cuff from under his pristine suit jacket sleeve and checked his watch. ‘It is 13.09 and I am Detective Sergeant Mike Blake of Peel Street CID.’
‘And I am Detective Constable Lewis,’ said Ricky-Lee who sat alongside him, jacket abandoned on the back of his chair.
‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence, if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. For the purpose of the digital recorder, please give us your name,’ he said, looking towards Mr Thompson an
d to the back of Danny.
They all knew that Danny Ray could hear the officers as they went about asking their questions and putting the evidence before him, giving him every opportunity to respond should he wish to do so. For forty-five minutes the two detectives worked through the questions about the savage attack on Jean Weetwood. Danny made no response to any of the questions, even when they dropped in that his DNA matched that of the rapist. Donald Thompson concentrated on what was being said and constantly made notes. At the end of the interview, the prisoner was returned to his cell and arrangements were made for the barrister to be available for the second interview which would take place at five p.m.
Charley took a deep breath and turned towards a thoughtful-looking Annie. ‘This may be all he does for every interview.’
‘You’ve got to hand it to the detectives of yesteryear. Can you imagine what it was like having to record everything in contemporaneous notes, as well as trying to talk to the prisoner?’
Charley nodded. ‘Every question asked, every answer given … They had to write bloody quickly!’
‘I wonder what life was really like for a copper, pre-PACE. Making sure the prisoner admitted the offence was the most important thing.’ Annie chuckled. ‘I’ve heard there were some interesting interview techniques available.’
‘Like threatening a prisoner with the arrest of his wife or taking his kids into care if he didn’t cough up to the job? Deemed good interviewing that, by the likes of Roper, putting the offender under intense pressure. “Don’t worry about bending the rules, you are acting in the interest of justice,” he once told me.’
‘Blimey. Really? I was thinking it was all further back in the dim distant past,’ the young officer said.
‘I’ll never forget it … He didn’t agree with the fact that we could no longer interview a drunken prisoner, because often they’d admit to anything when under the influence. Since the introduction of PACE, if a prisoner hasn’t slept, then they must be allowed a reasonable time to sleep, some would suggest as much as eight hours.’
‘I guess keeping a prisoner awake until they coughed was a good ploy, especially during a night.’
Charley agreed. ‘Anyone who has experienced sleep deprivation to the extent where your spirit is wearied to death, your legs are unsteady and your one sole desire is to sleep, knows that not even hunger and thirst are comparable. And no one used to ask for legal representation in those days. Or if they did, the news soon flew around the station that they must have done something serious!’ Charley chuckled.
‘Of course! Otherwise, why would they want a solicitor? The legal aid bill must have gone through the bloody roof post PACE!’
‘It did. At one point, legal aid cost almost as much per year as the total funding for over forty police forces in England and Wales.’
‘I guess it was the first time the detainee was actually given detailed advice about it.’
At that point, Ricky-Lee stomped into the room, followed by Mike, and the women’s heads turned his way as he flopped into a chair.
‘The arrogance of the bloody man! We gave him every opportunity to respond.’
‘I think reality has actually hit home, don’t you? When we spoke to him about the DNA hit, I noticed an instant change in his stance,’ said Mike.
‘He knows he’s fucked,’ said Ricky-Lee. ‘It’ll be interesting to see what he does when he’s faced with the evidence for further charges.’
‘Like you said before, boss, he knows the system,’ said Annie. ‘He’s attended crime scenes, major incident court trials. He’s got a degree in criminology. He thinks he’s an expert. Maybe, just maybe, he thought he was capable of the perfect murder, wrongfooting us with his messing around at the scenes.’
Charley was thoughtful. ‘Or maybe he got complacent. Got to a point where he thought he was untouchable because someone had his back?’
Mike gave her a knowing look.
‘What worries me is what he’s got away with previously. The people who didn’t come forward, dared not come forward; it’s those that I feel sorry for. The ones who don’t have enough faith in the system to report the crime,’ said Annie. ‘Let’s face it, he didn’t start out as a full-on murderer, did he? He’s got to be a prime suspect for assault, perhaps flashing, before it got to rape and murder.’
Charley felt sick to her stomach. The only other person who knew about his attack on her was Roper and now, with Mike’s recent revelation, the past felt like a time bomb ready to explode. But what would Roper have to gain? There must be a reason why Roper hadn’t reported Danny sending him indecent images? Did Danny have him over a barrel like Roper had so many others under his command? Solomon Myers hadn’t welched on Danny Ray; Danny Ray was at the moment keeping quiet about Roper…
Charley could hear the others talking in the background. She cringed and closed her eyes.
‘Vigilance and patience allow us to take advantage of the perpetrator’s mistakes. The truth will out,’ said Ricky-Lee. ‘We’ll gain the evidence needed to convict him for all the others and maybe, just maybe, once this is out, some of the others – if there are any others, of course – will trust in us and come forward.’
The others didn’t appear to notice Charley’s inner struggle as Ricky-Lee continued, ‘I don’t think he’ll respond in the second interview either, though. I think he’s actually enjoying the ride now. Gloating over his ability to somehow outmanoeuvre the police and continue to operate under our noses.’
‘Yeah, well he might have won a few battles, but he sure as hell hasn’t won the war,’ said Annie. ‘He’s met his match in Detective Inspector Charley Mann.’
There was a rap at the door and Tattie entered. ‘Mr Ray’s desk diary, ma’am,’ she said. ‘Apparently, although we’ve drawn a blank with the investigation in relation to Wilkie Connor, he made an entry regarding interviewing a homeless person called Stewart Johnson on the day before he was murdered.’
At the end of the second interview with an unresponsive Danny Ray, and a debrief that yielded no further information or results from Forensics, Charley decided that the night would be best spent in her own bed. Exhaustion was threatening to close her system down as the adrenaline started to subside. Tomorrow was another day.
Chapter 25
Despite the bone-deep exhaustion, Charley tossed and turned in her bed, sleeping fitfully. Inspector Roper’s voice haunted her; she, the young police officer under his command. Annie Glover’s eyes searched hers for more than Charley had told her, her voice gentle, hard to hear against the high-pitched bark of Commander Roper, the angry despot. ‘I’ll wait to hear from you,’ she heard Danny Ray telling Roper in a sinister way. She sat bolt upright in bed. ‘I can’t sleep! I can’t breathe. I’ve got to get help. I didn’t do anything!’
Seven a.m. was late for her to wake. She showered, grabbed a slice of toast and was on her way, her hair tied back but still soaking from the shower.
The incident room was bustling with an industrious team that didn’t appear to have slept at all. She opened her office door to see the coffee cups from the previous day still lined up on her desk. She ran a finger over her windowsill and a layer of dust stuck to it. Dead flies had already collected in its corners.
‘Tattie?’ she called. ‘Is there any news of Winnie?’
Tattie shrugged her shoulders. ‘No! Not that I know of, anyhow. I’ll have a word with Personnel and find out when she’ll be back.’
‘I keep meaning to go see her, but time is just running away,’ Charley said.
Before she had managed to take her coat off and sit down, Mike Blake came into her office and closed the door. She turned to see a look of shock on his face.
‘I’ve just had a call from Fran,’ he said. ‘Wilkie’s perked up a bit more…’
The colour had drained out of Charley’s face, she'd feared the worst at the mention of Fran’s name. She breathed out in relief.
‘Apparently,’ went on Mike, ‘Wilkie says Danny
Ray lured him to a meeting to tell him he knew who the flyer of the drone that led Eddie to his death was. Roper told him he had found out that the drone was one of our own…’
‘The drone found in Danny Ray’s garage is a police one?’
‘He said so, yes.’
There was one thing Charley knew for sure: an admission from those concerned would never be forthcoming, even if it was true.
Danny Ray was at court for remand so they didn’t need to concern themselves about him: he was going nowhere and rumour had it that his barrister wasn’t making a bail shout on this appearance.
The morning briefing couldn’t have been more positive. The evidence trail was of paramount importance and it was imperative they proved every fact beyond doubt, but things were falling into place. The search of Danny Ray’s car had revealed damage to the front nearside and fibres had been removed from the edge of the front headlamp and bonnet. These were still being checked against the clothing seized from Wilkie Connor after the accident. Soil removed from the car mats had proved to be a positive match against those found on the bodies, thus putting Danny on site at Gibson’s Horticultural. Under the passenger seat, they’d found a used condom containing DNA linked to Solomon Myers, suggesting his relationship with Solomon was sexual.
Charley wondered if he was like any addict, where the craving didn’t subside with everyday involvement, so he was always left needing something more. Was murder the ultimate answer to satisfying an insatiable sexual appetite? Again, she asked herself how she had not seen the monster in him.
Payback Page 29
