Mortal Men (The Lakeland Murders Book 7) (11 page)

‘Would he kill, though?’ asked Jane. ‘All right, he’s got a conviction for ABH, but it was years ago.’

‘Oh, aye, he’d blow someone’s head off with a shotgun, no problem. I wouldn’t doubt that for a second. If there was something in it for him, like.’

‘So what’s he up to? I assume he doesn’t have a straight job?’

Mann laughed. ‘I haven’t seen him for a while, actually. His name never even crossed my mind when this happened, if I’m honest. Last I heard he’d taken to money-lending, loan sharking, like. You’d have to be barking mad to borrow off a bastard like him, mind.’

‘Or desperate’ said Keith.

‘Aye, Mother Teresa, or desperate.’

‘All right’ said Jane, ‘he sounds a bit more interesting now, I suppose. We know that Frankie Foster was receiving, and no doubt was on with a few other scams, but he seems to have had no assets, and sod all cash. So maybe it was all going to this Taylor character. Repayments, maybe.’

‘It’s possible’ said Mann, although Jane could hear the doubt in his voice. ‘But I thought that we fancied Tyson or Winder for this.’

‘Who’s ‘we’?’ said Jane, sharply. ‘Look, I know damn well Andy fancies those two for Foster’s murder, and no doubt you’ve talked to him about it, but I’ve never thought it’s likely. That bank job was too long ago to be a motive. It’s as simple as that.’

‘I haven’t been talking to Andy’ said Mann, mildly. ‘I’d have thought you knew me better than that, Jane.’

‘Sorry. Of course I do. Forget I said it. Heat of the moment. But let’s get right on to this Jez Taylor. Priority one, as of now, please.’

‘You want him brought in?’

‘No, not yet. Let’s get that ANPR analysis and whatever we can get on his finances and background. We don’t have an intelligence file on him, I take it?’

‘No’ said Mann, ‘he never seemed worth it. Like I said he’s nasty, right enough, but he’s not a man of ambition, I’d say.’

‘So he works alone?’

‘Pretty much, aye. Does his own collecting anyway. I expect he likes it when the punters can’t pay.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, aye. He’ll have a go at anyone, will Jez. Man, woman, child: I don’t think he’s fussy about whether or not they can put up a fight. They just love the fear, get off on it, blokes like him do. It’d make my bloody year if we got to put him away for this one. It couldn’t happen to a nicer fella, and that’s a fact.’

Andy Hall was thinking about his holidays, and wondering if southern France would be a bit too hot for Jane, when Will Armstrong knocked on his open door. He was carrying two mugs, which Hall usually regarded as a good sign. But this time he wasn’t entirely sure.

‘Can you spare me a minute, Andy?’

‘Of course. Come on in. You’ve come equipped, as they say.’

‘Sorry, I don’t get you.’

‘You’ve brought teas. We say a burglar goes equipped, you see.’

‘Oh, yes. I get you.’

‘Sit yourself down. What can I do for you?’

‘I wanted to talk to you about the ACC. About the way he’s been treating me.’

‘I see. But why talk to me? I’m not your line manager.’

‘I know, but you spoke to the ACC, didn’t you? About how he spoke to me.’

Hall thought for a moment, his face impassive.

‘He mentioned that to you?’

‘Yes. He called me in for another bollocking today, and he said not to rely on you to save me. To tell you the truth I think you’ve actually made things worse, not better.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Will. So why are we talking now?’

‘I wanted to know if you’ll back me up.’

‘You’re planning to make a formal complaint against the ACC, is that it?’

‘For harassment, yes. You saw what happened. He can’t get away with that.’

‘You’d be surprised at what people get away with. But I saw the end of what looked to have been a heated meeting, yes. And you’re quite right, I did speak to the ACC about it afterwards.’

‘So you’ll back me up? He was bullying me, right?’

‘I’ll give a statement, if asked. It’s not up to me to decide whether or not what I saw constitutes inappropriate behaviour.’

Armstrong got up quickly. Some of the tea slopped from his mug when his leg banged the table as he rose.

‘You’re all the bloody same, aren’t you?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Coppers. When it comes to it you all close ranks against the rest of us. They told me that when I joined.’

‘I’ve already said that I’ll give a statement. But you’re right, I am a sworn Police officer. So I’ll do what I’ve always done, and give a simple account of the facts, as I know them. If I’m asked, that is.’

Armstrong was about to say something more when Hall’s phone started ringing.

‘Sorry, but I need to take this.’

Armstrong stood where he was, and Hall picked up the phone. ‘Yes, Chief. Now? Sure. Anything you need me to bring with me? OK, I’ll see you in two minutes.’

‘What was that about?’ said Armstrong, flushing. ‘Was that about me? Of course it was. I bloody told you.’

‘I’ve no idea. Honestly, he didn’t say. There’s no reason to believe that it’s about you, is there? But I do need to go now, Will. I’m sorry if you don’t think I’ve been any help, but I have to go.’

‘You go. You’re just as bad as the ACC, and all the rest of them. Just another bloody coward, hiding behind a uniform.’

‘I haven’t worn a uniform in years. But do come and talk again, if you want to, OK?’

‘No point. I’m completely on my own in this shit-hole. I do get that.’

The Chief’s office had been completely redecorated and furnished in advance of his arrival, some six months before. Hall had quite liked the old look, which he imagined is pretty much what a WW2 fighter base officers’ mess might have looked like. Now it resembled the sort of office that you saw in TV dramas, when power was underscored by hard lighting and even harder furniture. The only thing that was missing was a view across the Thames, but Hall preferred the trees anyway. At least they were still there. He hadn’t changed a thing about his own office, partly because he didn’t much care, but mainly because he didn’t want to waste money at a time when front-line policing was under such intense pressure. But it was self-evident that Charles Longley didn’t take the same view at all.

‘Thanks for dropping in’ he said, as Hall crossed the wide prairie of carpet between door and desk.

‘Not at all, sir. What can I do?’

‘I was after an opinion, that’s all. I’m just taking a sounding, as it were. Entirely informally.’

‘Concerning what, exactly?’

Longley ran a hand through his dark hair. Hall wondered briefly if he dyed it, politician style, but decided that he was probably still too long to need to.

‘It’s about this killing down on your old patch. Very nasty business, by the way. I haven’t seen the photographs of course, but it sounds unpleasant.’

‘It does. I haven’t looked at the pictures either, but then it’s not my case. I don’t have any operational oversight of the case at all.’

‘I know, I know. But you do know the personalities, the people involved on our side.’

‘I do, and as you know I do have a personal interest. But they’re a good team, a very good team, and I took no part in the decision to promote Jane, let alone to assign her the SIO role.’

‘Of course not. But even so, Andy, I’d appreciate a view. Has Jane really got the experience?’

Hall paused, and wondered what a politician would say in this situation. He realised that he didn’t have a clue. ‘From what I gather the team has a number of active lines of enquiry, sir, and I’m very confident indeed that they’ll pursue them in a thorough and professional fashion. But I sense that’s not what you’re asking.’

‘Perhaps not entirely, no. So tell me, how would you like to pop down there, just for a day or two? Initially, anyway.’

‘In what capacity?’

‘Observer, consultant, call it what you like. Be my eyes and ears, if you like.’

‘I don’t think that would go down very well at all. The team would feel as if it was a vote of no confidence, especially at this early stage.’

‘You mean that’s what DI Francis would think.’

‘It’s what they’d all think. And if you’re asking for a view, I’d certainly advise against. But I’d be more than happy to review the case files for you, and then offer a more informed view.’

‘I’m thinking that we need more, Andy. I bet you’re itching to be back in the midst of it all, aren’t you? I know that I would be, in your position.’

‘My advice is still against, sir.’

‘Well I’m sorry to hear that, I really am. Because I think I’m going to have to pull rank here, much as I hate to do so.’

‘So you want me to go to Kendal nick? But strictly as an observer, not as SIO?’

‘I leave that to you, Andy.’

‘Then I won’t interfere with the established chain of command in any way, sir. If that’s all right with you.’

Longley waved a hand airily. ‘That’s an operational matter, Andy. I leave it entirely in your capable hands. I’m quite sure that you’ll do whatever is required to ensure that we achieve a speedy outcome to the case. I’m counting on you. Now, if there’s nothing else?’

‘Well, actually,’ said Hall, as he started to get up. ‘No, no, it doesn’t matter.’

But Longley had already turned back to his computer, and he didn’t seem to hear Hall, or see him either. So he didn’t notice that Hall just stood for a few seconds, apparently lost in thought. Because he was already starting to think about how he’d break the news to Jane. And he was certain that there would be no easy way.

Ian Mann always enjoyed a good identity parade. And in his book seeing a con getting fingered by the victim was always something to look forward to. Like a personal form of justice. Maybe even the best part of the whole process, for the victim. Knowing that the offender was standing there, exposed, with nowhere to hide, and nowhere to run. And just feet away their victim was pointing at them and saying, in a nice clear voice, ‘that’s him’ or, much less often, ‘that’s her.’

Sometimes he was a bit tense before a parade, but not this time. He’d liked Ronnie Roberts as soon as he’d met him, a proper old school bobby. The old boy was as sharp as a tack too, and the half dozen women in the other room looked dissimilar enough for Tiffany Moore to be a relatively easy spot. She was as guilty as sin, even if her story about having been shown that bent gear was clever, by the usual con’s standard at least. So Mann was hopeful, and he watched as Roberts listened carefully as Iredale read the instructions to him, and Roberts nodded to indicate that he’d understood.

‘Take your time, Ronnie’ said Mann helpfully. He was watching Tiffany closely through the one-way window. He did enjoy seeing the bastards squirm, so it was good to keep them in there for as long as possible. Watch them sweat up, in that hot, windowless room. But he had to admit that Tiffany still seemed remarkably calm, from this distance at least.

The old man did take his time, too long, and Mann soon shot a glance across at Iredale. If it could have spoken it would have said ‘shit’.

‘I’m sorry, lads,’ Roberts said eventually, ‘but I’m not completely sure.’

‘That’s OK, that’s fine’ said Iredale. ‘Would you like a little longer?’

The duty solicitor looked across at Iredale, and shook her head slowly. Then she went back to looking down at her phone.

‘I think it might be number three’ said Roberts, ‘but I can’t be sure. Not absolutely certain, anyhow. I’m sorry.’

Mann wanted to say something, but he knew the rules. Tiffany Moore was number three, of course she bloody was, but the old man wasn’t going to be able to pick her out. Stupid old fool, he thought.

‘I told you his eyesight wasn’t up to much’ said Iredale, when he and Mann were back in the CID office.

‘Aye, you did. But he still knew it was her, didn’t he? Do you think he was frightened of her, is that it?’

‘What, that Tiffany’s mates would go round and sort him out? No, I don’t think his mind works like that. And, if I’m honest, I don’t think a positive ID would have done us much good, not unless she coughed to it after, which I very much doubt would have happened. Like I say, his eyes are gone, and that would have come out in court, we both know that.’

‘Maybe. She certainly seemed confident enough standing there, the bitch. She smiled you know, as they were going out.’

‘I expect she changed her appearance a bit as well’ said Iredale, ‘enough to sow a deed of doubt, anyway. But I still don’t understand why she’s doing it.’

Mann laughed. ‘Same as the rest of them. Because she wants money, and she doesn’t want to graft for it. Bloody hell, Keith, the lass was right about one thing. You really are a total and utter twat, mate.’

Friday, 25th July

It only took ten minutes to drive from their house to Kendal nick, but if felt like longer to Hall. Jane didn’t say a word until they’d almost reached the car park, and then the words tumbled out.

‘Just admit it, Andy. Just admit that you begged the Chief to let you in on this. I understand, love, of course I do.’

‘But I didn’t. I told you what happened. He called me in, pretended to be interested in what I had to say, the way they all are now. All that caring, sharing crap. And then he told me what to do, which was reassuring in a way.’ Hall waited for Jane to ask ‘why?’, but she didn’t, so he carried on. ‘It’s easier when they revert to type.’

‘So you’re going to be telling me what to do from now on, is that it?’

‘Of course I’m not. I’m just here to observe and advise, and that’s it.’

‘But I know you, Andy, you won’t be able to help yourself. You know what you’re like. You always know better than everyone else, and you’re not afraid to bloody say so.’

‘Blimey, that’s a bit harsh. And let’s not meet trouble half-way. With a bit of luck I’ll have bugger all to do or say, and you and the team will wrap it up in no time.’

‘You, nothing to say? I’ll believe that when I hear it, Andy. For a man who prides himself on his open-mindedness you always have a hell of a lot of very firmly held opinions.’

Fortunately for him they were parking now, because Hall was tempted to say something else. As they were driving he’d wondered, briefly, what the hormonal effects of pregnancy were, and he realised that he couldn’t remember what his wife had been like, all those years ago. He remembered the physical changes, the fluttering, feathery kicks turning into bass drum bangs, but he didn’t remember her becoming tetchy. That came a good few years later. But maybe he just had that effect on women, sooner or later. He decided that silence was the best policy in this instance, and he swung open his door the second that the car stopped.

The morning briefing was well attended, and the team was attentive. Hall stood right at the back of the room, and although a few people greeted him a few didn’t even notice that he was there. Most of them wouldn’t even have recognised him, he thought. One of Sandy Smith’s team gave an update on the external lab and DNA analysis work, on everything from the suspects’ clothing to the weapon. Most had come up blank, but the DNA samples from the shotgun were still being analysed.

‘Thanks, Chris,’ said Jane, pointing to the picture of Jez Taylor on the interactive whiteboard. ‘Most of you know this character, quite a few of you have probably nicked him, and those who haven’t need to read up on him, and fast. We’re sure that he visited our victim at least twice in the weeks before his death, and we’re pulling him in later today to ask him about why that was. But of course he’s probably going to lie about that, even if it’s just on principle. So let’s really crack on with background on him this morning, so we can catch him out every time he tries to bullshit us. I want the lot, his finances, his email and phone trails, his known associates, everything. And one thing you should all know. Our information is that Taylor has recently been turning a dishonest penny as a loan shark; so was Frankie Foster a borrower who got in too deep? Or was he a tally man, working for Taylor? Or is there some other criminal connection? And remember, the clock is ticking, so let’s really get stuck in, yes?’

Afterwards Hall made Jane a coffee and brought it to her in her office. The one that used to be his. But Jane got up from her desk as soon as he came in, and they sat on opposite sides of the battered old meeting table with the wonky leg.

‘Well?’ she said. ‘You’ve read the file. I want to know what you think.’

‘Really?’

‘Come on, Andy, don’t go all bashful on me. Look, I’m sorry about what I said in the car. I didn’t mean it, you know that. I’m under pressure here, so help me out. What would you do, if you were in my shoes?’

‘Mostly what you’re doing. I’d say it’s a textbook operation that you’re running here, honestly.’

‘Mostly? So what would you be doing that I’m not?’

‘Well, doing more of something else would mean doing less of what you’re already doing, wouldn’t it? Your resources are fixed, after all.’

‘You’re telling me. Come on, love, that’s a given. So you wouldn’t change anything?’

‘Probably not. But I might at least think about focussing a bit more attention on Winder and Tyson, really do some deep background on them, at least until I’d interviewed Jez Taylor. I just don’t see him as a killer, at least not like that. He’s the sort of criminal who likes everyone to know what he’s done, and half the time that’s why we manage to nick him. Slipping in under the radar like that, it’s not his style.’

Hall sipped his coffee and wondered if he’d said to much. Jane didn’t keep him waiting for long.

‘You’re like a bloody broken record, Andy. Christ, why does it always have to be so complicated with you? Jez Taylor is a working con, and a nasty bastard with it, whereas your suspects are both getting on, and neither has come to our attention since they got out of jail.’

‘Tyson is only a year or two older than I am’ said Hall, mildly. ‘But listen, I’m not writing anything down, and nothing gets back to the Chief, OK? All he asked me to do was base myself down here for a few days, and be on hand in case help was needed. It’s obviously not, and that’s fine. As I keep telling you I never asked to be here, and I’ll leave you to it now.’

Hall got up, and walked to the door carrying his half-f mug. He didn’t expect Jane to say anything, and she didn’t. He didn’t mind. It was awkward, but they both knew that this almost certainly wouldn’t happen again, so it was nothing to worry about really. In another year or two he’d be retired, and his days would be filled with toddler groups and being mistaken for a grandfather. He could think of worst lives. At least, he could at the moment.

Hall shut the door behind him, and Jane picked up the phone. Ian Mann answered on the first ring.

‘Ian, do me a favour and get the background on Winder and Tyson underway again, would you?’

‘You know it’ll slow down the work on Taylor?’

‘Yes. Just do it, would you?’

‘Andy’s idea, was it?’

Jane put the phone down hard, and Mann could hear it from outside her office. He decided to take that as a yes.

It was a bit early for her neighbour to be knocking, thought Joan, but welcome enough. She hadn’t see Maureen in a couple of days, so they had things to talk about. Of course there was always something to talk about, what with the goings on at number seven. And she’d been up for hours, anyway, so her chores were all done. So Joan swung the door wide without first using the peep-hole, and was surprised to see the young woman with the clip board standing on the doorstep. Joan could see the Council’s logo on the back of the clipboard quite clearly.

‘Mrs. Pearson? I’m Melanie. I expect Mike mentioned that I’d be coming to see you today?’

‘Mike, dear?’

‘My colleague, Mike Lightfoot. Don’t tell me that he forgot to mention that I’d be calling in?’

‘Oh, no, dear. If anyone has forgotten it will be me, not Mike. He’s a lovely boy. He did say something about callers, but I forget what. Come on in, and tell me all about it.’

Tiffany left the tea, but ate the biscuits, and half-listened to tales of the goings on at number seven. They sounded about as scandalous as a dropped stitch. But Tiffany knew never to rush them. They didn’t like that, any of them. It made them nervous, and occasionally suspicious. Ironic, really, she thought, given how little time most of them had left. And funny how the world could shrink so much, until the edge of the known universe was the bottom of your garden. She’d seen it with her own mum, and she wasn’t even sixty.

‘Why are you wearing gloves, dear? Eczema, is it?’

‘Yes, how did you know?’

‘My Peter had it, when he was a boy. Very nervous lad, he was. Do you suffer from your nerves dear?’

‘I do, yes. A bit, anyway.’

‘Never mind. You’ll grow out of it. Have another biscuit.’

The biscuit tasted dry and dusty in Tiffany’s mouth, but she finished it anyway. The old woman was watching.

‘So Mike explained about the survey then, did he Joan? We are checking on clients’ windows at the moment.’

‘For security is it, love?’

‘Partly, but mainly for energy efficiency. Did you know that at least ten percent of your heat escapes through your windows.’

‘But I keep them all closed in the winter, dear.’

Tiffany smiled. ‘No, I meant… It doesn’t matter. You’ve got three bedroom here, right?’

‘Two, dear.’

‘Two. Computers, eh? You can’t trust them, can you?’

‘You certainly can’t. I got letters for my Charlie for years after he died. Computers that was, they said. Nothing they could do. It was still upsetting though, I can tell you.’

‘Yes, that’s a shame. So listen, Joan. What I need to do is go into each room individually, and take some readings. It’ll take me a few minutes in each room. I’ll need to close the doors. Would you be OK staying down here while I do it?’

‘Of course, dear. Would you like another cuppa? I’m making one for myself.’

‘No, I’ll be fine, honestly. And don’t worry if you hear a bit of noise. That’ll just be me taking my measurements. Pay no attention.’

The back bedroom didn’t yield much worth taking, but Joan’s was proving much more worthwhile. Tiffany didn’t know much about jewellery, and she’d never known how or why her mum had chosen her name, but she was confident that the pieces she had stolen were absolutely genuine. A grand and a half easy, even at Jez’s ridiculous rate of exchange. Tiffany was just checking under the bed when the door opened behind her, and she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t heard the old woman coming up the stairs. They usually banged about, although Joan had looked as light and insubstantial as a bird.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, as Tiffany emerged, arse first, from under the bed, the small torch still held between her teeth. But Joan hadn’t really needed to ask, and Tiffany saw the surprise turn to fear in her face. The old woman turned too quickly, lost her balance and started to fall. She didn’t cry out, and the sound of the body banging off the treads and the bannister was as dry as dead sticks falling in the forest.

Tiffany knew that the old woman was dead. She knew before the sound stopped, and long before she stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at the broken body below her. It looked like someone had spilt a bag of clothes intended for the charity shop. Tiffany ran down the stairs and jumped over the dead woman’s body. She flung the door open and ran out into the street, almost colliding with an old lady on the pavement.

‘Call an ambulance’ Tiffany shouted, without looking over her shoulder. She was about to throw the plastic bag that she’d put the gear in away, but she didn’t. She’d give it to Jez Taylor. It would settle her mum’s debt once and and for all, and if it gave him a big problem with the law later on then so much the better. Maybe that young copper with the kind eyes would catch Taylor trying to shift the stuff. And Tiffany had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t be anything like as nice to Jez, if that’s what happened.

So she went straight round there. But Taylor wasn’t at home, and hadn’t been for an hour. His wife was a beady-eyed woman, and she kept looking at the carrier bag in Tiffany’s hand.

‘He was picked up by the local cops. Something and nothing, I expect. He’s done nowt, hasn’t Jez.’

‘Right. They didn’t say what it was about?’

‘What’s it to you?’

Tiffany shrugged, and turned to go. She wanted to check on her mum. Sit with her, talk to her for a while. Tell her not to worry, even though the telling only ever made it worse.

‘Is that bag for Jez? I can give it to him, when he gets back, like.’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t nick it off you. I’m as honest as the day is long, me. You ask anyone.’

Tiffany turned back, and held out the bag.

‘You give this to Jez, all of it, and tell him that’s my debt paid in full. And if you do somehow forget, and keep it for yourself, then you need to understand that I’ll come straight back here, and I’ll stab you in the eye with a pair of scissors. You get me?’

The woman opened her mouth, then closed it again. She grabbed the bag, and slammed the door in Tiffany’s face.

Jane heard the activity in the corridor outside the interview room, and wished that the coppers out there would keep the bloody noise down. It had to be a major incident that they were attending though, and normally she’d be trying to get her interview finished as soon as possible, just so she could find out exactly what all the fuss was about. But not this time. Because this wasn’t the recipient of offensive text messages, a bag snatcher or a serial flasher that she was looking at across the table. This was a murder suspect.

‘So, Mr. Taylor, you do remember going to Frankie Foster’s house on the second and third of this month?’

‘Aye, if you say so.’

‘Either you do or you don’t. I’m just trying to establish the facts, not put words in your mouth.’

The duty solicitor raised an eyebrow in the direction of Ian Mann. Normally he’d have smiled back, but not today. Taylor was guilty all right. Maybe not of murder, but of plenty of other things. He had the look, simultaneously cocky and stupid, that said that he could tell them plenty, if he was ever minded to. Which he wouldn’t be.

‘So did you go to Mr. Foster’s house?’

‘Aye, I did, but I don’t remember the exact dates.’

‘We have an automatic system that records number plates, and your vehicle was recorded driving between Kendal and Ambleside on the 2nd and 3rd of this month, and an eye-witness saw a vehicle like yours outside Mr. Foster’s house on or about those dates.’

Mann thought that Taylor’s lips pursed at the mention of a witness.

‘It’s no secret, I was there. Like I told you, Frankie’s an old friend.’