Suspect (The Mark Pemberton Cases Book 2)

by Nicholas Rhea

  ‘In that case, you’ll know we haven’t been tailing him, we’ve never had any reason. The only thing I know about his off-duty moments is that he goes fishing,’ Mark Pemberton confessed.

  ‘He tells people he goes fishing, Mark, he tells you he goes fishing. Who can prove that? He can’t. Certainly, he does go fishing sometimes, but at other times he takes off on that bike of his. We’ve tailed him to umpteen places over the past few weeks — since Pearle’s murder in fact — always on the bike, always dressed in black and always alone.’

  ‘But none of this proves he is the man we’re seeking,’ Mark said. ‘There is absolutely no proof that he is the murderer, Barry. There’s suspicion, I grant you that, but proof? Not a scrap! We can’t prove he had anything to do with either of your deaths, Barry. What about our Green Tent murder? Were your men tailing him then?’

  ‘No, we had knocked off for the night. He was seen to go fishing, he was observed walking beside the river with his tackle, that would be around eight in the evening, after which our men left. That would be at nine o’clock that evening. Your murder was four hours later, I believe? In the early hours?’

  ‘True — and he was fishing at the time, he told me so. So you were conducting a surveillance in our area without our knowledge? Our Chief’ll blow his top if he finds out.’

  ‘Our Chief did tell him.’

  ‘He never told me.’ Mark felt slightly hurt at this lack of trust.

  ‘How could he, Mark? It had to be kept secret, known only to those at the top, the very top. So, now we’ve provided you with this information — and you may keep those photographs, plus a chronological list of our sightings and observations.’ He pulled another grey folder from his briefcase which he passed to Mark. ‘What do we do next? What’s our next step, Mark? Arrest and interrogation? More observations? Do we risk another murder?’

  ‘He did volunteer to be questioned for elimination,’ Mark reminded his friend.

  ‘I know, Mark, but I ask myself why? What prompted him to step forward and offer himself for sacrifice?’

  ‘His bike was listed on the PNC printout,’ smiled Larkin.

  ‘Maybe there is more to his decision,’ suggested Brennon.

  ‘A belief in his own innocence?’ returned Pemberton. ‘So, Barry, we need to clear this up very soon. Hadley will have to be questioned about that trip to Turnerville. I don’t think we should let him know he was followed or that we have evidence of his presence in the town; if he denies he was there, then we know he is lying and if he does lie, then we go for his throat, as they say. We’ll need to make him account for every minute of every day since Pearle was shot, and if necessary we’ll have to search his house and belongings. Remember, he does own shotguns and section one firearms. He’s got all the necessary paperwork for them but he’s not daft enough to leave the murder weapon where it can be found.’

  ‘But we don’t know if he’s got a sawn-off shotgun, do we?’ Brennon said. ‘And our swift search of his bike didn’t find one.’

  ‘The murder weapon hasn’t been found in your patch, then?’ Mark asked.

  ‘No, that’s one big stumbling block for us all. But if the killer is Hadley, then he’ll know how important it is never to let the police get their hands on the murder weapon. And the same gun was used for all the killings, remember.’

  They talked through the crimes, each highlighting similarities and differences, and then Mark said, ‘You said you were familiar with the Millgate supermarket raid, Barry?’

  ‘Only what I read in some of those bloody awful tabloid papers, and what inter-force gossip has spread around. I know Hadley was at the centre of that one, I had that in mind when all this bother developed. I know they said he shot an innocent bystander and that the fellow’s family have never let the case die down.’

  ‘I went to the scene, Barry, before these murders began, as it happens. I did so because the Chief transferred Hadley to my department. I wanted to see where he had killed his innocent bystander,’ and Mark went on to outline his views on that sorry episode. From memory, he recounted most of the matters which had been raised in the press and at the various enquiries, while Larkin and Brennon listened with deep interest. Mark gave due emphasis to Hadley’s mental condition and when he had finished, Brennon said:

  ‘So another unconvicted man was executed, eh?’ He spoke slowly. ‘That makes Newton, Pearle, Scott and Hardisty — with reservations because Hardisty is a convicted drugs dealer.’

  ‘There is a theme running through these killings, Barry. It all suggests a vigilante-type campaign to execute those who consider themselves above the law. The other link is that the victims are all male,’ Mark added.

  ‘You’re not suggesting a female vigilante, are you? On a motor bike? With a shotgun?’ laughed Larkin.

  ‘It’s not impossible,’ said Pemberton. ‘There’s some fierce feminists around. Big woman, big bike, big ideas…I know some women who could perform that kind of murder without any trouble.’

  ‘Mark, my son, we are going around in circles now, we’re getting nowhere at all, but if we look at things closely, your man Hadley is in the middle of all the circles. I think we should have him in for interrogation.’

  ‘Your place or mine?’

  ‘We three together, Mark. If Hadley has volunteered to be quizzed, then it would appear normal if two senior officers from his own force conducted the interview with one from the other participating force. I think the time has come for us to find out just what this man’s been doing.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Pemberton and Brennon decided that Hadley should be interviewed the following day. Larkin was sworn to secrecy; the job would be done discreetly so that none of the other detectives would be aware of Brennon’s interest in the officer formerly in charge of the firearms unit. With Hadley making it known among his colleagues that he wished to be eliminated from the enquiry, Pemberton’s part would not be regarded as unusual. On the other hand, if senior detectives from two separate forces investigating a series of killings were involved in what had all the appearances of a formal interview, then any detective with an atom of common sense would know that something more serious was afoot. And if the entire staff of the murder room became aware that Hadley was in the frame as a suspect, then that news might filter into the realms of the newspapers and other media — and thus to Brian Newton and his family. Nowhere is totally secure. The resultant speculation, fuelled by a resurrection of Hadley’s part in the Millgate supermarket death, would produce a furore and there’d be well-publicised speculation that the police service was murdering suspects or introducing its own death penalty for offenders. There was no doubt that the Newton family would make huge capital out of that. The outcome for the police service as a whole would be horrendous and damage to the course of the current investigations might be equally disastrous. It was therefore vital that this interview was treated with the utmost secrecy.

  Once the decision had been made, Brennon and Larkin left for home while Pemberton settled down with the papers and copies of the photographs he had been left for perusal. He helped himself to a sizeable brandy and poured a calvados for Lorraine, who came to join him on the settee.

  ‘It looks serious for poor old Hadley,’ he said as she settled at his side and curled her long legs beneath her.

  ‘I don’t want to know, Mark. What transpired between you two and Mr Brennon is confidential — I mustn’t be told. In fact, I’d rather not be told.’

  He lapsed into a silence, deep in thought; he was extremely worried about the consequences if Hadley was shown to be the killer, but he knew he must do his job without fear or favour. To accuse Hadley would be wrong, but to ignore the fact that he might be guilty was equally wrong. To interview him would be infinitely more difficult than questioning a civilian suspect. Hadley knew too much about the system — if he was the killer, it would be a very difficult task, probably an impossible one, to persuade him to admit the crimes. Tomorrow, God willing, th
e truth might be revealed.

  ‘Thanks for clearing up.’ He kissed Lorraine as he turned to more mundane matters. ‘The meal was lovely.’

  ‘It was nice to share it.’ She snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘We should hold some dinner parties, invite people in.’

  ‘Not police officers though?’ He grinned. ‘We shouldn’t have to talk shop while we’re relaxing.’

  ‘Right, how about some of your new rambling friends?’

  ‘Great idea. Once we get this murder enquiry over, we’ll do that!’

  ‘Then let’s make sure we do,’ she said.

  She began to chatter about the sort of meal she would like to produce, listing some of the dishes she favoured — Italian, French, Greek — but his mind was wandering. He could not avoid thinking about Vic Hadley. Lorraine realised what he was doing and poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

  ‘You’re not listening!’ she cried. ‘You’re thinking about Vic Hadley, I’ll bet. Come along, Mark Pemberton. Bedtime. I’m sure I can do something that’ll take your mind off murders and mayhem!’

  Next morning, news from the forensic lab was not encouraging. A telephone call was received by Sergeant Thornton in Scenes of Crime to the effect that the laboratory experts had examined the casts of the tyre marks found at the murder scene and had compared them in considerable detail with the tyres of Hadley’s machine. Sadly, the marks left in the soft earth were not sufficiently well defined for the scientists to state categorically that they had been made by Hadley’s motor cycle. They did say, however, that the treads of his tyres could have made the marks because they were of the same design and pattern as the marks in the ground, but the necessary distinguishing elements were absent. Small cuts in the rubber, indentations in the threads, general wear and tear — all these individual identifying characteristics were lacking in definition in the heavy earth and the plaster casts had not perpetuated them. In other words, the evidence from the tyre mark casts was inconclusive.

  Likewise, the tyres of Hadley’s machine had been closely examined and no soil of the type which formed the base of the site near the green tent was found in the tread. Other deposits were located upon the tyres, but none matched the control sample taken from the scene of the Green Tent death. On these two counts, therefore, the tests were inconclusive. The forensic experts would not and could not state categorically that Hadley’s machine had made those marks — but likewise, they could not say it had not made them. Pemberton knew that their evidence could be presented to a court merely as circumstantial and not as real evidence and that any good defence counsel would easily convince a jury of its uselessness. Quite simply, there must be hundreds of motor bikes bearing identical tyres, any one of which could have made those tyre tracks. They provided not a shred of evidence against Hadley, neither did they prove his innocence. For the Scenes of Crime Department, the outcome was something of a disappointment.

  Mark, having visited Fell’s motor-cycle shop in Scarborough, had a list of some purchasers of motor cycles which had been fitted with identical tyres and they were currently being interviewed one by one, but the inconclusive nature of the detail in the tread marks found in the soil would be unable to link them with any particular machine. Nonetheless, all owners of bikes with Masseria Italian tyres would be interviewed. Another factor was that there were no tyre marks at the scenes of either Pearle’s or Hardisty’s death. The lab said that a full written report would be sent in confirmation.

  Armed with this news, Detective Sergeant Thornton went to see Pemberton and arrived prior to the morning conference of detectives. Pemberton listened and thanked Thornton, saying he would announce these findings at the conference — but without linking them to Hadley. He would simply say that the tread marks found at the scene lacked the necessary identifying characteristics for them to be linked to any particular motor cycle. He would ensure that no details of the tyres, such as size and the name of the maker, would be released to the press because if the killer read the piece, he would simply refit tyres of a different kind or cut or mark his tyres in some way that would have shown on the casts. It might yet be possible that a bike with such tyres was found to have soil deposits within the deeper treads. One could always live in hope.

  For Mark Pemberton, therefore, this was another piece of circumstantial evidence which, when added to the others, continued to maintain Hadley as a prime suspect. One difficulty, from Hadley’s own point of view, would be the problem of establishing an alibi to counter even this slenderest of evidence. If the police could not prove he had committed one or more of the murders, could he prove that he hadn’t? He needed alibi witnesses and seemed to have none.

  The morning conference of detectives produced little new material. Owners of all black motor cycles were being traced and interviewed, particularly those fitted with Masseria tyres. At least three of the machines had been stolen and not recovered — they could be anywhere. Garages were being visited to see if anyone had recently been in to acquire a new number plate for a motor cycle of any kind, and motor cycle outfitters were being visited in an attempt to identify the maker of the black suit and crash helmet.

  A telephone call from Langbarugh police indicated that their enquiries were proceeding along similar, unfruitful lines and that no links, criminal or otherwise, had been established between the three victims.

  Unable to produce any further news for the press conference which followed, Pemberton had to state that no significant progress had been made, that enquiries were continuing in an attempt to trace the owner of the black motor cycle seen at the scene of each murder, and that the sawn-off shotgun or shotguns used had not been found. No arrests had been made; no one was in custody helping the police with their enquiries. This final sentence enabled the press to continue to speculate upon the crimes — once a person was charged, or about to be charged, then reporting of the case became restricted. Pemberton was happy that proper speculation and publicity was given: this was always likely to persuade reluctant witnesses to come forward.

  For Pemberton, though, the next and most distasteful duty was to interview Inspector Hadley.

  With Hadley’s consent, it was decided that the most appropriate venue was Hadley’s home. Other locations had been considered but Pemberton said that, as the officer in charge of Hadley and as the man who had to submit regular reports upon his progress, it was perfectly logical that he should visit Hadley at home. Nothing sinister could be read into that meeting, should it be witnessed by others. And Pemberton was anxious that Hadley’s name be kept from the press. Hadley knew the reason for that. The interview would be this afternoon.

  During the morning, Pemberton invited Hadley into his office, closed the door and mentioned that Detective Superintendent Brannon from Langbarugh also wanted to talk to him. At that news, he saw the look of concern in Hadley’s dark eyes.

  ‘Langbarugh, sir? What do they want?’

  Sometime beforehand, Pemberton had formulated an answer to that inevitable question.

  ‘You know as well as me, Vic, that there’ve been two murders in Langbarugh in addition to ours. The two incident rooms are liaising over these killings and Langbarugh are as anxious as we are to trace the black motor bike. We want to eliminate you from all the enquiries.’ Hadley said nothing; he merely gazed at Mark with his dark brown eyes as he continued. ‘We want to conduct the interviews discreetly, hence our visit to your home after work. Mr Brennon has asked if he can talk to you too, to avoid the need for another visit. He might have information that I do not have.’

  ‘You mean I’m a bloody suspect, sir? I know the language, remember. I know you let suspects believe you are interviewing them for elimination purposes, just to get them talking.’

  ‘You’re no more a suspect than anyone else, Vic. It was you who wanted to be eliminated, remember? That was your request.’

  ‘I’ll tell you now that I haven’t done those murders, sir. Whatever happens, whatever evidence you have, it
wasn’t me. I want you to know that. I want you to believe that. You have to believe me, sir. I am telling the truth, so God help me!’

  ‘Vic, I am a senior detective, and I must be guided by the evidence which presents itself. I’ll be honest with you, I have no evidence which would convince me that you are the killer. On the other hand, you are in the firing line because of your bike, your choice of riding gear, the tyres on the bike and your recent movements.’

  ‘I’m also a suspect because I shot Newton, aren’t I? You still believe I shot him in cold blood, you and the rest of them. I’ve still got his bloody family on my back, sending me reminders, making life a bloody misery…’

  ‘That has no bearing on these murders, Vic — it’s over and done with.’

  ‘It bloody well isn’t. I’m like a convicted man, aren’t I? Just as old cons are always being interviewed as suspect, you’ll think of me every time a murder occurs!’

  ‘Vic, that’s not true. The Millgate incident is finished, over.’

  ‘Suppose I say nothing? That’ll fox you lot — but it’ll make you dig deeper, won’t it? I know how the CID operate, remember.’

  ‘Saying nothing is your entitlement, Vic.’

  ‘All right. I’ll talk, but it’s because I’m innocent, sir, because I want to clear myself…I just hope I can do that…God, this is awful, isn’t it? I was just getting over that bloody carry-on with Millgate and now this. Why can’t people believe what I say? They never have…never…and I always tell the truth, sir, always. Ever since I was a kid. I think somebody’s got it in for me, you know.’

  ‘What do you mean, Vic? Got it in for you?’

  ‘I don’t know what I mean, do I? God, I wish I did! Whoever it is, somebody’s gunning for me…following me…I’ve been followed lately… Did you know that? It’ll be those bloody Newtons…trying to unsettle me! What a bloody life, having to live like this, under suspicion all the time, watching my back, worrying about my wife and home, having to explain myself when other killings occur…me, an innocent man, a policeman. This is wrong, sir. Look, I just want to get on with my life and my job, without any hassle…’