by L M Krier
He planted a kiss on Ted’s cheek, then he was gone.
‘I’ll put the kettle on, then we can eat something. But first I need to let the cats out.’
‘You have cats?’
‘Seven,’ Ted told him, going through to the kitchen and shooing them all outside.
‘I’ve got a little dog. One of those silly French things. White and fluffy. A Bichon. It was the wife’s pride and joy. Trixie, she called it. Bloody silly name for a bloody silly dog. Then she went and met a Mr Much More Right than a copper on low pay and long hours. So she buggered off with him and left the little yapper with me because the new man didn’t approve. It’s company, of a sort. But I have to pay a bloody dog walker to take it out when I’m at work all day.’
They were making inconsequential small talk. Going all round the houses to avoid the matter they were clearly both avoiding being the first to bring up. They both knew it. But neither of them wanted to broach the subject.
Ted put sandwiches on the dining table in the living room. Made coffee for Jono, tea for himself. Let the cats back into the kitchen but shut them securely in there while he went to eat.
It was Ted who broke the silence first, after they’d both made a start on their food.
‘He’s not going to make a good witness, is he? CPS aren’t going to like their chances of putting him forward.’
‘Bloody hell, Ted, I’m glad you mentioned it first. I’ve been turning myself inside out here wondering how to bring it up tactfully with you, when we’ve only just met.’
‘Pretend it’s just another case conference. I’m just another copper you’re working with. No connection between me and your witness at all. Then tell me your thoughts.’
‘Okay, then. On the plus side, he was under age at the time, so it’s a criminal offence. Without a shadow of a doubt about it. On the other hand, he comes across as ...’
‘Glib. Flippant. Making light of it. Showing too much affection for his supposed abuser. Still convinced he was in love with Warboys at the time it happened.
‘That’s the public face he shows to people he doesn’t know. I know the private face. I’ve seen first-hand what it’s done to him. He’s never forgiven his parents for believing Warboys over him. For throwing him out of the house, which meant he lost the horse and the life he loved, amongst other things. He didn’t even know he had a sister until she was a teenager. That’s the Trev I know.’
‘And that’s what the court needs to see. Could you talk to him, Ted? Explain things.’
‘Coach a witness? I couldn’t do that.’
‘Well, could you at least find someone who would talk to him. It’s up to CPS at the end of the day, whether or not they want to put him on the stand. But I can see them having some serious concerns when they hear this recording. You know how paranoid they are about witness credibility these days.’
‘I used to go out with a Crown Prosecutor. Before I met Trev.’
‘Well, could he help, then? Just a friendly chat and a bit of general advice. You know as well as I do that the defence are going to bring in their biggest guns for someone of Warboys’ standing. And I don’t want to go down in history as the SIO of a big and costly case which collapsed over witness credibility issues.’
‘He died. The prosecutor,’ Ted said shortly, waving away Jono’s apologies and condolences. ‘I’ll see if I can think of anyone who could help. But first, the hardest bit is going to be for me to explain to Trev why we need to do something like that. It took a lot of time and patience to persuade him to even consider testifying. I’m just worried this is going to feel like another type of betrayal to him.’
Chapter Twenty-three
The search warrant for the storage unit had come through swiftly. Superintendent Debra Caldwell had a way of moving things along at a good pace when she wanted something.
Sal was on his own for now, driving to the lock-up with the warrant in his pocket. He hadn’t found anyone spare at short notice. He’d decided to at least go and see what was needed, then call for an extra pair of hands if necessary. There might, after all, be very little of interest there and he didn’t want to waste scarce resources.
For the same reason, he didn’t bother driving his car up the many ramps to get to the unit in question on an upper floor. No point, unless and until he knew if there was anything for him to seize from inside it. He had evidence bags in his pocket. If it was just a camera or two, he could carry that back down in the lift.
The man on duty at the entrance hadn’t done more than glance at the warrant Sal stuck in front of him before handing over the keys. He was clearly keen to avoid any trouble.
‘I’ll go up and take a look inside but I’m going to need a list of anyone who’s visited recently, certainly in, say, the last two weeks to start with. Perhaps you could be putting something together for me, while I’m up there? And we’re also going to need any and all security camera footage you’ve got.’
The man sighed and put down the magazine he’d been looking at.
‘I can look at sign-ins but I’m going to have to get permission to get you the footage. We don’t keep it all that long, either.’
‘Get the permission, then. Hopefully you can give me an update when I come back down after taking an initial look. Or better still, give me the footage.’
Sal took the lift up to the appropriate floor and found the unit halfway along one aisle. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find as he fitted the key to the lock then raised the door.
It was like stepping into Aladdin’s cave. Three walls were lined with all kinds of electrical goods and other merchandise, some new and still in packaging, others not in boxes but still looking in good condition. Sal thought he’d found a plausible explanation for where at least some of Abigail’s money had been going.
He put gloves and shoe covers on before he stepped inside to take a closer look. The first box he looked at confirmed his suspicions. A lot of the goods were cheap rip-off copies of expensive branded goods. Another lucrative sideline for the cuckoos. And far too much of it to store in Abigail’s flat.
He started by photographing everything exactly as it was. It was going to be a big job to sort through what was in there. But Sal had spotted something which was hopefully going to be of immediate interest and use to the enquiry. An expensive-looking camcorder, sitting on top of cardboard cartons in one corner of the unit. A collapsed and partially telescoped tripod was leaning up against the wall next to it.
Sal walked over to the camera. Picked it up carefully. Switched it on, hoping there was still some battery life left. That way he could at least see if there was anything relevant to the case. If there was, he’d take it straight back to the station for further examination.
It sprang into life when he switched it on. The battery indicator showed less than half-full, but that was more than enough for him to start looking at playback.
He managed less than a couple of minutes before he switched it off in disgust. Viewing it would be a job for someone with a stronger stomach than his. He put it carefully into a bag and did the same with the mains lead he found with it.
The tripod could be collected later, once the detailed search of the unit contents was under way. There was a good chance that forensic tests could place it directly in Abigail’s flat from fibres on the feet matching the carpet there. A small enough detail but one more to add to the slowly mounting pile of evidence against the cuckoos.
Ted was still wondering how he was going to handle the situation with Trev as he drove back to the nick from dropping Jono off for his train.
Jono had given him a firm handshake and a sympathetic, ‘Good luck with it all, Ted,’ as he’d got out of the car and headed for the southbound platform.
Ted knew several barristers through the CPS. A couple were still decidedly cool towards him because of his break-up with their colleague. It was years ago now but it had destroyed Philip, although that had never been Ted’s intention, and he had died a brok
en man. Albeit with Ted at his bedside as he’d requested. It meant that Ted wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to anyone from that circle about his current problem.
He arrived back at the nick just as Sal was talking to Jo about his findings at the lock-up. The camera was on Jo’s desk, still in the evidence bag, when Ted walked in for an update.
Sal gave him a quick recap and said, ‘The stuff I had a very quick look at is hard core. It was also recorded more than a week before Latte’s body was found in the flat. I haven’t yet got all the information from the storage place about who might have put it there and when, but it looks as if no more footage was shot after Latte was killed. Presumably that meant that none of them could get access to the flat and to Abigail, their star turn. And that they didn’t know Latte was dead inside.
‘It’s an expensive piece of kit so they wouldn’t want to risk losing it. They possibly thought it was safer and more accessible to them in the lock-up. I’ll go back to Abi’s financial records now because I suspect there’s a good chance it was bought with her money. And the tripod for it is at the lock-up, so I would imagine that can be tested for fibres to place it in the flat, beyond reasonable doubt.’
‘Some more results from Forensics, too, boss,’ Jo told him. ‘They were able to lift DNA from some of the semen stains on the sheets on Abi’s bed. We’ve got a positive match for Kane and for Latte, but that’s all. It probably means nothing more than that not all of them were going bareback. Oh, and there were significant traces of Abi’s blood there, too, which suggests it got pretty rough sometimes.’
‘I couldn’t face much of it, but I can confirm that,’ Sal told them both. ‘Definitely violent. Strangely Abi seems completely passive throughout. They must surely have been giving her something to keep her like that. I know the reports say she’s always been placid and easily manipulated, but it goes way beyond that. Jo, can I leave it to you to view this latest lot, while I go back to the figures? I’m better with that than having to watch any more of the films.’
‘Can you sort out a full search of the lock-up, please, Sal?’ Ted asked him. ‘Chase up the tapes, and let’s try to get a drugs dog in there before we start moving anything, in case some of it needs to go straight to Drugs.’
After Sal left them, Jo said, ‘I’ve been thinking we should speak to Her Majesty about another public appeal on this one, but from a different angle. Abigail could very well not be the only victim of the cuckoos on our patch. It’s possible that our delightful bunch were doing the same to someone else as well at the same time. Maybe more than one person. It could be much more widespread than we know so far.
‘So I’m wondering if we should be asking people to keep an eye on any vulnerable family members or neighbours, perhaps? To see if they’re getting more frequent visits than usual, especially from significant numbers of strangers.’
Ted hesitated. ‘Would that be opening up a can of worms, though? Planting the idea? If people started looking out for the vulnerable members of society, might that not serve to emphasise there’s a lot of at risk people out there who are easy to exploit?’
‘Don’t you ever get tired of thinking like a cynical copper, Ted?’ Jo asked him. ‘I do. We think up something which should be simply decent human behaviour and straight away we see it as another way the lowlife types can exploit it.’
‘I do, too. Often. But the day we stop thinking like they do and acting accordingly is the day we lose the battle against crime, I reckon.’
Ted’s mobile phone rang in his pocket. He checked the number. Gina Shaw. One of the two undercover Drugs officers.
‘I need to take this, Jo. I’ll put your idea to both bosses, though.’
He answered the call as he went out of the door and headed for his own office.
‘DCI Darling.’
‘Hello, Ted, it’s Gina, from Drugs. Are you happy for me to call you Ted? Only I know some senior officers are a bit anal about rank, and I noticed most of your team call you “boss”.’
‘It’s fine, Gina. What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve been doing some digging around, with my contacts. I’d like to discuss a few things with you. I’d prefer to do it in person, but not at your nick. Not that you weren’t hospitable, but trips to a police station are always risky when you’re working under cover. We’d never go back to the same one too soon after the first visit, by choice.
‘I wondered if you could come up to Manchester this evening. Say around eight. There’s a wine bar I use.’
She mentioned an address to which Ted replied, ‘I know of it. And yes, I could do that.’
‘Great. It should be fine because you really don’t look much like most people’s idea of a copper. No disrespect intended. Just don’t be worried by the mwah-mwah greeting you’ll get from me. It’s my cover. PR and marketing. So it will be me schmoozing a potential client over a glass of wine. It doesn’t mean I fancy you.’
Ted laughed at her directness. ‘Just as well. My partner might get jealous and he’s a martial arts expert.’
It was her turn to laugh. ‘It will be a very chaste mwah-mwah, in that case. I’ll see you later.’
Ted hesitated with his phone in his hand after she rang off. He should phone Trev, to let him know he’d be late. Part of him was relieved at having an excuse to put off the conversation they needed to have. He was still no nearer to a solution.
‘Hey, you,’ Trev greeted him. ‘Let me guess. You’re phoning to say you’re going to be late because something came up at work and that I should go ahead and eat without you. Am I right? Is that a good bit of detection?’
‘It’s worse than that. I have a hot date with a woman in a wine bar. Sorry.’
‘And you’re going to try to convince me that’s work?’ Trev asked, but he was laughing. ‘Honestly, Ted, it’s a good job I know the one thing I can totally trust you about is women.’
‘You can trust me on most things,’ Ted told him, trying to sound indignant.
‘Except reliability, keeping promises about when you’ll be home, standing me up at the last minute … shall I go on?’
‘You’d better not. Sorry. I’ve no idea what time I’ll get back. Don’t wait up if it gets very late.’
Ted was punctual as ever but Gina was already at a table, talking animatedly into the mobile phone in one hand, tablet open on the table in front of her. He’d never been in the bar. It looked like the sort of pretentious place he would normally avoid like the plague.
Gina saw Ted as he walked through the door, raised her free hand to wave to him, calling out, with no apparent trace of irony, ‘Eddie! Over here, darling.’
As he reached her table, he heard her say, ‘I have to go, Tristram, sweetie. My next client’s here. Love you lots, speak soon.’
Then she stood up to gave Ted the promised air kiss to each side, saying under her breath as she did so, ‘I can’t stand the twat but you have to play the role.’
She picked up an open bottle of red wine from the table and waggled it in Ted’s direction. There was a spare glass there ready.
‘I don’t drink,’ he told her. ‘I’ll just get a mineral water from the bar.’
‘Oh, we don’t do that here. I’m well known. Just watch this. Do you want some food? Or even some tapas? It all goes on my expenses tab, so why not? And it needs to look authentic.’
She raised an imperious hand and waved it towards one of the people working behind the bar. A young man came over to the table almost immediately.
‘Some decent mineral water for my client, Raoul, please. Sparkling, so I know it’s not from the tap. And some of your finest tapas.’ She looked toward Ted as she asked, ‘Ice and a slice?’
As the waiter walked away to bring their order, she turned the tablet towards Ted and said quietly, ‘Sorry about the Eddie. I thought it would work better than Ted in this scenario.
‘Now, for the sake of my cover, you need to look at this as if it remotely interests you. Perhaps shake your head
a bit and point at the screen once or twice. Make some suitable comments. How are your acting skills?’
‘I’m about to find out,’ he told her, as he looked at the screen. Some sort of a mock-up of an advertising layout. As the waiter came back with his drink and the tapas and started to put them on the table, Ted waved a dismissive hand towards the screen and said, ‘It doesn’t jump off the page at me. And I hate those muted colours. They don’t fit the brand image at all. I need it to pop. To grab the reader by the throat. The basic idea is there, but it’s too tame. I want it bolder.’
Once they were alone again, Gina smiled at him as she said, ‘The boss done good. That sounded just like some of my real clients.’
It was noisy enough in the bar that they could talk quietly, without fear of being overheard by anyone.
‘You do this for real, then?’
‘Oh yes. The best cover is always as close to the truth as you can get. And I studied graphic design. Anyway, back to the reason for our meeting. Ian’s off the radar for the foreseeable. He’s gone in deep, so I’ll hear from him only as and when he can make contact. He’s working his own cases, but he’s also seeing what he can find out that might be of use to you. I’m doing the same.
‘I’ve been asking around and letting it be known I’m in the market for top quality stuff. Better than I’ve been finding lately. A couple of people I’ve spoken to have mentioned a young lad called Data who’s been hanging around the clubs a lot lately and has some of the best stuff on the market.
‘I haven’t wanted to seem too eager or it will set alarm bells going, but I asked how I could find him, and I’ve been given a few possible leads. I asked what he looks like. I was told he’s late teens, early twenties. Asian or mixed race. Medium height, slim. Well-spoken and very good looking. That’s why he blends in at the sort of places where he hangs out. I’ve not seen him yet, but does that description help you at all?’
