* * *
Sara enjoyed every minute of her interview with Norma. The anticipation of her first interview in a murder inquiry was a welcome change from burglars and petty thieves who would lie repeatedly without compunction. Although Norma hadn’t been classified as a formal suspect yet, it didn’t matter. She was involved somehow and that meant the interview was important.
Norma repeated what they already knew: she had been working on the night of Gloria’s death. She made no attempt to hide her hatred of Rhisiart Hopkin. Sara had even asked if Norma was sorry he was dead, and she had laughed out loud. Sara had glanced over at Winder, registering his disbelief at the reaction.
Norma had no idea the questions were coming about Sanderson and she clammed up immediately. Showing her the scenes on the street in Conwy shocked her.
‘It’s not what it seems.’
Sara sighed to herself. It sounds like something spouted by a philandering spouse in a cheap romcom movie, Sara thought. Then she tackled Norma about her relationship with Roger and the shutters came down.
After Sara finished, she and Winder trekked through to the canteen to wait for Drake. They met up in a room on the first floor of the area custody centre, enjoying the early evening sunshine after the oppressive atmosphere of the windowless interview rooms. Drake stood by the window, his mobile pressed to his ear when they entered – his conversation monosyllabic. Sara had been working with Drake long enough to realise it wasn’t helpful news. Drake tossed his phone onto the table. ‘Nothing from the search of Buckland’s smallholding.’
Drake waved them to visitor chairs and spoke to Winder. ‘Any news on the triangulation of the mobile telephone numbers?’
‘Any time now.’ Winder had been chasing the results ever since they had finished the interview with Norma.
Luned bustled in and slumped into a chair.
‘Tell me about Spencer,’ Drake glanced over to Luned.
‘He was terrified he might be involved in a murder inquiry. Started sweating like a pig. Then he told me he’d been working for a double glazing company on the quiet – all cash-in-hand jobs. Eventually I got hold of the owner of the company who confirmed the story and told me the van had been sold about six months previously. I spoke to the garage—’
Drake put up his hand. ‘I get it – it looks like he’s in the clear and that means we cannot link the van to Buckland.’
Sara pitched in. ‘Norma refused to answer any questions about her relationship with Sanderson. But she clearly admitted she’d been happy to see Hopkin dead. How did you get on with Roger, boss?’
‘He’s given us the names of various people as an alibi for the night Sanderson was killed. I’ll need them checked out.’
Winder’s mobile bleeped and he read the message before looking over at Drake. ‘Triangulation puts Wood and Ellingham near the van in the five days before we found it.’
‘And Buckland?’ Drake said.
Winder shook his head.
Chapter 35
The evening light was drawing in when Drake returned to the Incident Room at headquarters. He needed to think. Although Norma and Roger Buckland were sitting in the cells at area custody centre Drake knew they’d be released in the morning. Buckland’s alibi would check out – it sounded too plausible not to. But he didn’t want to dismiss them as suspects. He perched himself on the edge of one of the desks and peered over at the board. Both Wood and Ellingham had alibis. But the triangulation of their mobile telephones meant that in the morning they both needed the full attention of the team.
Drake’s mobile rang as he pondered and he recognised Huw Jackson’s number.
‘Hello, Huw.’
‘I thought you should be the first to know. Jack Smith came to a meeting of the committee this afternoon. He got very abusive, told us all he hoped we would rot in hell and nothing would ever persuade him to agree to Noel Sanderson’s canvases being used.’
‘It doesn’t surprise me. From what Sara told me he was pretty cut up.’
‘It’s been decided that Noel’s work will be replaced by Jeremy Ellingham and Geraint Wood.’
Drake let his mouth fall open. ‘But Ellingham and Amber Falk are on the committee.’
And suspects.
‘The festival is to start this Saturday, for Christ’s sake. Somebody had to replace Sanderson.’
Drake finished the call. Now both Wood and Ellingham benefited directly from Gloria and Sanderson’s deaths. The board was missing a photograph of Valerie Reed to match the image of Amber Falk alongside Geraint Wood and more nagging uncertainty filled Drake’s mind that establishing her identity had been overlooked.
Behind him Drake heard the door squeak open and Superintendent Price walked in. He looked over at Drake.
‘Working late, Ian?’
‘We’ve just finished interviewing Norma and Roger Buckland.’
Price nodded. ‘Any progress?’
‘We need to check out his alibi but…’
‘I’ve decided the inquiry into Hopkin’s death will be conducted by another DI. On Monday you’ll conduct a briefing for DI Metcalf from Western Division. She’ll have her own team and I expect you to give her your complete cooperation.’
‘We still need to finalise our inquiries into Wood and Ellingham. They could both be implicated.’
‘I thought they had alibis?’
‘Yes sir, but we’ve had the results of triangulation analysis of their mobile telephones and—’
‘I appreciate you believe we are dealing with one killer but there is far too much at stake and I’m not persuaded they are linked. This whole case, including that fiasco over the video this morning, is having an effect on you. You should go home. You look like shit.’
Drake narrowed his eyes. His lips dried. He searched for the right words, to persuade his superior officer he was in charge and that he was capable of clear thinking.
After Price left, Drake sat in his office for several minutes staring at his desk. They had missed something, he was convinced. He got up and left his office. Everything about the Hopkin case told him it was linked to the other murders, but was he the only one who could see that?
He found the images from Hopkin’s home and set out them out on an empty table before creating a panoramic view of the room on the board. It started with the dining table and its three place settings and then alongside it were two images of the bookcase with the Lloyd George volumes. Moving his gaze into the living room where Hopkin had been found, Drake stared at the newspaper folded carefully. Had he missed some meaning in the visible page?
The chair where Hopkin sat was streaked red. The gallery continued with the footstool and some watercolours hanging on the walls. Then the mantel appeared, a piece of green ceramic in the middle alongside two pieces of cranberry glass. Drake spotted a brass companion set on the hearth before the images of old, heavy second-hand furniture near the window.
He yawned as he went over the familiar images again. He was too tired to concentrate, but instead of going home, he drove into Llandudno.
He parked opposite the shoe shop and walked over to the spot from where the killer had filmed him arriving at the scene of Gloria Patton’s death. The streets were quiet. The sodium streetlights cast a dull yellowy pallor over the pavement. Drake looked into the charity shop. He noticed the blinking light of a CCTV camera clipped to a wooden display stand. The staff had told him the system was broken so he made a mental note to double-check.
He skirted around the rear of the shops and down towards the entrance where the killer had parked the van used to move Gloria Patton. It was dark now; the lights from the flats above the shops the only illumination.
Drake retraced his steps and stood at the junction of the main road. Parked on the opposite side was a delivery lorry for a large department store. Cigarette smoke wafted out of the driver’s window.
He walked over, pointing his warrant card at the driver who yanked the cords of his iPhone out of his ear.
/> ‘Are you a regular with deliveries to Llandudno?’
‘Every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I don’t get here until much later but I started early tonight.’
‘Do you always park here?’
‘Usually, is there a problem?’
Drake paused; the possibility that this was an eyewitness dispelled his tiredness.
‘Two weeks ago on a Wednesday morning a woman’s body was found in one of the shops nearby.’ Drake nodded at the arcade. ‘We believe she was abducted the night before.’
‘That’s terrible.’ The driver straightened his position in the cab.
‘We are trying to trace a shop fitters’ van seen in the vicinity.’
‘I remember. I was having my break. I’d just started on my sandwiches.’ The certainty took Drake by surprise. ‘It stuck in my mind because he was wearing one of those one-piece suits you see on the TV cop dramas. The van was really battered. The front panel was done in. I notice those kinds of things because my wife runs a van hire business.’
Drake stared at the driver. He needed a written statement. Now.
‘I’ll need you to come with me to police headquarters.’
‘No chance. I’ve got deliveries to make.’
Drake took a pace backwards and stared inside the cab. ‘It wasn’t a request.’
Chapter 36
Drake arrived home a little after two am. He gazed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror realising Price was right but knowing a few hours of sleep wouldn’t improve his complexion. Drake patted the folds of skin under his chin. The whites of his eyes looked grey and stray hairs grazed the top of his ears.
When he woke the following morning, he couldn’t remember getting into bed.
He had work to do. A killer to catch.
Sara and the rest of the team were already at their desks when he arrived.
He went straight over to the board. ‘We’ve got an eyewitness.’
He moved his gaze between each of the officers, measuring the significance of his announcement. ‘I found a lorry driver who spotted the white van.’
‘Where, boss? I mean, when did this happen?’ Sara said.
‘He was parked last night near the shoe shop. There’s a photofit.’
Drake pulled the artist’s impression from a folder and pinned it next to Buckland’s image.
‘The driver of the van smoked and wore dark black-rimmed glasses and a one-piece white suit.’
‘That ties in with him being forensically aware,’ Winder added.
‘As neither Buckland nor his wife smokes it rules them out,’ Sara said.
‘I know,’ Drake said.
The image of Amber Falk and Geraint Wood stood out from the Incident Room board. Underneath, relegated to a secondary position, was Jeremy Ellingham. Both Wood and Ellingham benefited from the death of Noel Sanderson, each now exhibiting at the Orme Arts Festival. In reality, the photofit description could have fitted either of the men.
Drake cleared his throat before continuing. ‘Whoever it was visited the pier Monday and Tuesday this week.’
Drake kept staring at the board, trawling through his memory, searching for something to make the pieces fall into place.
‘I thought Ellingham had an alibi for the death of Gloria Patton?’ Winder said.
Drake turned to Sara. ‘I’ll go to the pier. There might be eyewitnesses that could identify Wood or Ellingham. I need you to visit Wood. Find out where he was earlier this week. Then we’ll think about Ellingham once we find his girlfriend. That’s your job, Luned.’
Drake glanced at his watch. ‘Back here as soon as.’
* * *
Drake drove to Llandudno pier and parked on double yellow lines. He reached over to the passenger seat, picked up his carefully folded jacket and the folder underneath with the artist’s impression. The smell of fresh coffee drifted from one of the booths as he walked towards the entrance of the pier so he bought an Americano. Statements from all the concession owners along the pier would be taken in due course but he had to check as many as he could himself.
Taking a moment to savour the surprisingly fresh and strong coffee he gazed over the bay. TripAdvisor recently voted Llandudno the most popular seaside resort in the United Kingdom. On a morning like this he could see why.
Two young women were busy in the first booth, arranging stands of retro-merchandise. One had long purple hair and the other various body piercings of different size and shapes.
Drake flashed his warrant card. ‘Were you here yesterday when there was an incident at the end of the pier?’
Both girls nodded. Drake pulled the artist’s impression from the folder. ‘Whoever was responsible must have passed you. He might have been carrying two deckchairs.’ The tension on their faces showed as they grasped what Drake was suggesting. He scoured their faces for any glimmer of recognition.
‘Is it the same person that killed that woman in the shop?’ The pronounced Scottish accent came as a surprise from the purple-haired girl. ‘Do you mean the killer actually walked passed us?’ She shuddered, drawing her arms around her chest. ‘We get hundreds of people walking the pier every day.’
The other girl nodded and her piercings shimmered in the morning sunshine.
‘Take another look at this picture.’ Drake held up the photofit once again. They shook their heads. Drake thrust them a card. ‘If you think of anything let me know.’
By the time Drake was halfway along the pier the responses had been the same. Everybody was too busy making a living, making certain youngsters didn’t pilfer from their stalls, to pay any attention to the people walking past. At the end of the pier he stood looking at the booth he had visited the day before – yellow crime scene tape covering the door. Remembering the fiasco, he fisted his right hand before telling himself that anger wasn’t going to achieve anything. Behind him a woman’s voice shouted in delight and he heard the trickle of coins crashing from the slot machine. Inside he saw a glass-enclosed booth offering change. A young girl sat at a counter reading a magazine, filing her nails absently.
Drake produced his warrant card again. ‘I want to talk to you about what happened yesterday.’
Luckily, the amusement arcade was quiet and the girl left the booth and stood with Drake.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Tina James.’
Drake tried to put Tina at ease, keeping his voice low. ‘Tina, we thought what happened might have been a murder scene.’
She blinked furiously.
‘It was a hoax but we really want to find the person responsible. Do you work here full-time?’ She gave a frightened nod.
‘I’m looking for this man.’ Drake showed her the photofit.
‘It looks a bit weird.’ Tina peered at the artist’s impression. ‘It’s them glasses that look strange.’
‘Did you notice anybody resembling this man?’
Curiosity turned to recognition as she stared at the image. Progress at last, Drake thought. ‘There was this strange old man here this week. He was fishing off the pier and he had a deckchair with him.’
‘What was he wearing?’
‘He had one of them jackets without sleeves and lots of feathers and fluffy things sticking out of the pockets. He wore a hat with fancy ribbons. I saw him when I was on my fag break.’
‘Tina, it’s very important. Can you remember what he looked like?’
‘It was like that picture you showed me. He had thick heavy-rimmed glasses.’
‘Did he smoke?’
‘Yeah, come to think of it. I saw him flicking butts into the sea.’
‘How long did he stay?’
She curled her lips. ‘I can’t say. All morning?’
‘How old was he?’
‘Dunno, maybe forty.’
Really old then.
Tina soon got into the swing of providing information. The man was dressed to be completely convincing. Tina even remembered the fresh bait wrapped in newspaper lying b
y his feet. She had described him as having chubby cheeks and Drake guessed the spectacles, like the wispy beard and the clothes, had been a prop. Satisfied she had dredged her memory, Drake walked back to the car. Passing a billboard advertising the opening event of the Orme Arts Festival the following afternoon, Drake recognised the name of Milos Fogerty. It promised to be a busy weekend of events.
Arriving back at his car Drake cursed when he saw the parking ticket stuck to the front windscreen. He glanced around for the traffic warden before ripping it off the glass. He tossed it onto the passenger seat and drove back to headquarters.
* * *
Sara drew up a short distance from Wood’s cottage. Opposite, the branches of a large sycamore reached out over the road. She opened the window a couple of inches and a chainsaw clattered somewhere in the fields. Looking out through the windscreen, she saw the rear of Geraint Wood’s vehicle. With Buckland eliminated as a suspect Sara focused on Wood, forcing clarity into her thoughts. Wood had a motive for Patton’s death and a flimsy alibi. She dismissed the explanation from Amber Falk that she had been with Wood for most of the morning after Patton’s death, which ostensibly ruled him out of a connection with the shop fitters’ van and the recording broadcast on YouTube. Now he would benefit from Sanderson’s murder by exhibiting his work.
But it still didn’t explain the death of Rhisiart Hopkin. Sara had respected Drake’s opinion that Hopkin’s home was an elaborate copy of a famous piece of art just like the other two crime scenes. Even though she wasn’t convinced. She doubted she would ever have his single-minded approach.
She left the car and walked towards the cottage. A pile of cigarette butts littered the paving slabs near the front door. It confirmed her recollection of the smell inside. She grabbed the knocker and banged on the door. Immediately she heard a shout and recognised the voices of a man and a woman. Good, both Falk and Wood were home, no time to concoct alibis, Sara thought.
The door squeaked open and Wood stood on the threshold. He glared at her. ‘What do you want?’
Dead on Your Feet Page 24
