The Amen Cadence (8 page)

The interview room was hot but, by way of compensation, the tea that the PC who was helping out on the custody desk made for them was anything but. It should all have balanced out, somehow, but it didn’t. The drink could only have been made less palatable if it had a teaspoon of gravel in each cup. Copeland noticed that the Duty Solicitor didn’t even pick up his mug, but then he was a regular visitor. With so many local lawyers having abandoned legal aid work he was one of the few who carried the load these days, and it showed. He was probably only in his sixties, but Copeland always thought he looked at least eighty.

Pepper led the interview, and Copeland didn’t mind at all. Pepper’s style was straight and hard-edged at the best of times, and these were definitely not the best of times.

‘You know Linda Taylor don’t you, Vince?’

‘Oh, aye, Pepper. Known her for years. She’s your bosom buddy, isn’t she?’

‘And when did you last see her?’

‘Let me think. She’s been gone for a good while, has Linda. But then you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, love?’

‘And why would that be?’

Boyle smiled. His teeth were still good, but his breath wasn’t.

‘Because you’re her best mate. Why, what did you think I meant?’

‘Stop pissing me about, Vince, and answer the question. When did you last see Linda?’

‘I don’t know, not exactly. It’ll be weeks, months, maybe. I don’t keep a diary, like.’

‘And where did you last see her?’

‘Around town somewhere. That supermarket where she used to work, maybe. They have some cracking deals on that strong German lager in there, did you know that?’

‘So it was Carlisle? It was somewhere in Carlisle where you last saw her?’

‘Aye. Where else would it have been?’

Pepper looked at the Duty Solicitor, who nodded resignedly and whispered something to Boyle. He listened, then turned back towards Pepper.

‘Look, love, I’m not trying to piss about here, but I’ve no idea where your mate is. Sorry, but I don’t.’

‘Let’s talk about Birmingham.’

‘All right. If we must, like.’

Copeland was watching closely, and Boyle didn’t seem at all surprised by Pepper’s line.

‘Have you ever been there?’

‘Oh, aye. I’ve been all over, me.’

‘When were you last in Birmingham?’

‘Let me see. Last week it would have been. Aye, last week.’

‘And why were you there?’

‘A day out, like.’

‘How did you get there?’

‘On the train. It’ll all be on CCTV, I expect.’

‘Have you ever been before?’

‘Aye, probably.’

‘But not recently? You haven’t been to Birmingham in the last year or two, say?’

‘No. It’ll be longer than that, like. Years, I expect.’

‘And where did you go when you went down last week, exactly?’

‘Those big shops. You know, in the centre. Knocks bloody spots off Carlisle, they do.’

‘And did you go anywhere else?’

For the first time in the quick-fire Q&A exchange there was a pause for thought.

‘No. No, I didn’t. Not that I remember, anyway.’

‘Well, take your time and think it through. Did you go anywhere else? You know we’ll find out if you’re lying.’

‘Maybe you could, and all. But I didn’t go anywhere else.’

‘What were you wearing?’

‘Jeans, a t-shirt. Oh, aye, and my baseball cap.’

‘You always wear one of those?’

‘No. Just fancied it that day, like.’

Pepper nodded and sat back.

‘Do you know what facial recognition software is, Vince?’

‘No, love. I’m not keen on the computer job, to tell the truth. I see them down the Job Centre, like, but that’s about all.’

‘Well, it’s software that maps the features on people’s faces automatically, so that they can be traced from lots of different CCTV feeds, completely automatically.’

‘Really? Bugger me sideways, like.’

‘Some people try to fool the software by wearing hats.’

‘I see, aye, clever. But you don’t think I’d do owt like that? Why would I, love? I wasn’t on the rob.’

‘No, it’s not clever, actually. Not clever at all. Because you know what we do, when some shitty little con tries that one on? We just track the hat instead. Works every time, does that.’

Copeland wondered, briefly, if Pepper was telling the truth, or was just looking for a reaction from Boyle. If it was the latter, the tactic wasn’t working. He just sat there, showing them his big, white teeth.

‘All right, Vince’, she said after a long cold stare, ‘let’s talk about Dai Young. You know him, do you?’

‘Aye, everyone knows Dai.’

‘And you work for him?’

‘No, love. I’m on the dole. It’s because I’m allergic, see. Allergic to work, that is.’

‘So you don’t do any favours for Young, anything like that? Informally, you might say.’

‘I doubt he needs any help, love.’

‘Answer the question.’

‘No, I don’t do any favours for Dai Young. Jesus.’

‘Did you go to Birmingham to find, or observe, Linda Taylor?’

‘So that’s where she went, is it?’

The Duty Solicitor leaned in again.

‘I didn’t go to observe her, or owt like that.’

‘Did you know she was there, before just now?’

‘No.’

Pepper’s questions had been relentless, rapid-fire, but now she paused. Vince was used to the silent stare, like the coppers had been turned to stone, but he knew very well that they always came back to life eventually, worse luck, if you just waited them out. And, sure enough, it was Pepper who spoke next.

‘You haven’t asked what this is about, Vince. I find that pretty strange. Suggestive, even.’

‘Call me Sherlock, love, but I’d say it’s about Linda Taylor. Has something happened to her? I do hope not, what with you being her best mate. Her protector, I suppose you’d say.’

‘Where were you yesterday, Vince?’

‘In Carlisle, all day.’

‘And you’ve got witnesses?’

‘Of course. I’m not a bloody hermit. I’m a very sociable bloke, me.’

‘How about last night?’

‘Pub ’til closing, then back to a mate’s for a drink and a bit of a smoke, like. Home about two, if I remember rightly, which I probably don’t.’ Boyle laughed, and his chest rattled like frost-shattered stones sliding down a fell side.

‘Anyone vouch for you at home?’

‘Aye, the missus. I woke her up. Not that she was complaining, like.’

He winked and laughed again, and he didn’t even expect Pepper to join in.

‘All right, Vince. We’re going to need a list of everyone who saw you yesterday, with the where and when. You know how this works.’

‘No problem, but you’re wasting your time. I never touched Linda Taylor. Why would I want to do something like that?’

Afterwards, when Boyle and the Duty Solicitor had left, Pepper and Rex sat in the interview room.

‘He’s a bit brighter than he looks’, said Pepper, ‘not that it would be hard.’

‘You think so? Hasn’t he just admitted that he was in Birmingham at about the time that Linda told you that she saw him there? That’s pretty suggestive, isn’t it?’

‘Aye, but it proves nowt. Even that old fossil in the suit told us that. No, it was a smart play by Vince, I reckon, because we’d have found out anyway. When we build his timeline for the last week or two we’d have found out about his little away day then, wouldn’t we? And he was clever to keep his distance from Dai too. We’ll struggle to prove that link, we both know that, because everyone who knows either of them lies for sport. And as to him having actually done it, we can forget that and all. There’s not a chance in a bloody million.’

‘Do you want me to check his alibi anyway?’

‘Aye, but concentrate on building his timeline for yesterday, then cross-check a couple of data points against CCTV to confirm. It won’t take five minutes. Because believe me, the kind of places that Vince Boyle hangs out in are always well covered by CCTV. It’s a kind of cause and effect thing, I reckon.’

Rex smiled. ‘You’re on. Do you reckon your mates in West Midlands will do the same? Pick him up on CCTV when he was down there, I mean? See if they can follow him?’

‘They’ll try, I expect, but they’ll get nowhere. He’ll have strolled about for half an hour, then picked up a cab from somewhere. Tracking him wouldn’t be cost-effective. It would take two officers days to piece it all together, and even if they did the best they’d have is half a chance of a conspiracy charge sticking, and only then if we nick whoever did do it, and can connect that person back to Vince. So it’s all down to us, I reckon.’

‘You really think it was someone from up here who killed Linda, not some local psycho from down that way? Have we got any cons out on the street at the moment who’d be willing to bash a woman’s face in with a bit of scaffolding? That takes a special type of nutter, Pepper, and we both know that Dai didn’t do this himself. Not a chance, I’m afraid. He may be crazy, but he’s not that stupid.’

Pepper looked down at her notepad. ‘Aye, you’re right. I’ll call that DCS and find out what else he wants from us. And I’ll tell him that although we can’t prove anything we can be pretty sure that Young was behind this, and that Boyle was down there on a recce of some sort. So that’s something, anyway.’

‘All right, fair enough. But we should at least entertain the possibility that it was just a co-incidence, about Boyle having been down there. We don’t want to over-egg this one, Pepper. Imagine how you’d feel if we sent West Midlands’ whole investigation off in the wrong direction. Maybe Linda got herself mixed up in something down there, something that we know nothing about.’

‘Like what?’

‘I know, it’s not likely. I was just saying…’

‘Aye, I know what you’re just saying, Rex, and there’s something I need to say to you. Something that we need to talk about, actually.’

‘You want to go back upstairs?’

‘No, this will be fine.’

Copeland got up, and walked over to the interview room door, turned, and leaned his back against it.

‘Like that, is it?’

‘Like what? You don’t even know what I’m going to say yet, mate.’

‘I know exactly what people have been saying. I’m not stupid, Pepper. What that loud-mouth Lenny Murphy said about me has been all round the nick, I know that. But it was pure bollocks he was talking; that I was just doing Dai Young’s dirty work, nicking Murphy like that. You’ve got to see that much, surely?’

‘What about Kelly Michaels though, Rex? She says she knows you, from back in London.’

‘I’d never met her before in my life, honest.’

‘That’s not what she’s saying to Professional Standards, from what I hear.’

‘What? What the hell is she saying, Pepper? This is all bollocks. It’s just racism, is this. No one would take this seriously if I was a white officer, would they? But because I come from the ‘hood, or whatever they want to call it, I have to be dirty. Not all black people actually know each other, for fuck’s sake. There’s not a club you have to join, you know.’

Copeland took a couple of steps back towards the table, and Pepper didn’t move. She was smiling, and it took a second for Copeland to work out why.

‘Oh, I get it. You know I’m not dirty. Christ, Pepper, don’t wind me up. You really do know me better than that, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do, love. Do you seriously think I’d have you working with me on the killing of my oldest friend if I didn’t? That bastard killed Linda, and now he’s trying to fit you up, Rex, you’re absolutely right about that. So we’re both motivated to nail the bastard, right? And he must have something pretty strong on this Kelly lass, to get her to go into bat for him like this. Any ideas about what that might be? Could we make her a better offer, do you think? Turn the tables, like.’

Copeland sat down again, shook his head, and shrugged. ‘What could we offer? And they could have absolutely anything on her. It’s a Ferris specialism, blackmail, topped off with a bit of intimidation. They’re brilliant at it. No, we won’t be able to turn her, no matter what we offered. So what do we do now?’

‘Simple. Find our fucking mole, before Professional Standards drag you away for another grilling.’

Copeland laughed dryly, sharing the joke, until he realised that Pepper wasn’t even smiling this time.

‘You’re actually serious?’

‘Oh, aye. It’ll be easy, will this. All we have to do is get close, and I mean properly close, to Linda’s murderer, and then our mole will have to stick their head above ground, either to try to save himself, or to risk some desperate move to distract us. Either way, they’ll just have to show out. Dai will force them, because he can’t afford to let us connect Linda’s death back to him.’

‘So all we’ve got to do is crack Linda Taylor’s murder, find our mole, and then I’m safe from the professional prejudice squad?’

‘That’s right. Got it in one.’

‘And do we have any leads to help us achieve all this? Something you’re keeping up your sleeve, maybe?’

‘Well, no, not as such. Not yet. But we won’t make any progress if we just stay sat here all bloody day, now will we?’

Thursday, 18th June

CID Office, Carlisle Police HQ, 8.25am

Pepper came in though the office door fast, and she was calling out instructions to the team before she’d even managed to untangle her bag’s strap from the door handle.

‘Can I have a quick word, boss?’ Henry called out, and Pepper arrived at his desk at a run.

‘How are you, love?’ she asked, because she knew she should, but safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t get a long, boring answer. Henry was at his desk, grafting, and that was what mattered.

‘It’s one of those reg numbers you gave me to check.’

‘Aye. Which one?’

‘The Kia. It’s registered to a couple called Thompson, who live in Stanwix.’

‘Aye, so. Got form, have they? It’s a con’s car, is the Kia. They just love a long warranty. It’s a fact, is that.’

Henry laughed. ‘Hardly, on either count. That’s the thing though. The registered keeper, Brian Thompson, is over 50 and clean as a whistle. Never had any contact with us whatsoever, and nor has his wife.’

‘OK, so he’s a straight employee of that business.’

‘No, he’s not. He works at the hospital, in administration. And his wife works in a shop in town. So neither of them had any reason to be there.’

‘Maybe I just wrote the number down wrong.’

‘No, the registration matches the vehicle. I was going to pop round to his office at the hospital, and have a quick chat.’

‘You’d fit right in, love’, said Pepper laughing. Henry’s black eye was actually a deep purple colour, and there was bluish bruising right across his cheek. ‘But I’ll do it myself. Just give me five minutes to check my email.’

‘Am I coming too?’

‘No, love. You stay here. Don’t want you frightening the patients, like.’

Rex Copeland wasn’t due in until noon, but Pepper was pleased to see him coming in just as she was grabbing her coat.

‘Rex, with me, please.’

Henry frowned as he watched them go. If Pepper really wanted him to stay in the force then she had a bloody funny way of showing it.

The two officers walked down the same hospital corridor twice before they found Brian Thompson’s office. Pepper knocked and walked in. When she badged Thompson all she saw on his face was concern. No fear, no hint of calculation.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes, fine. Don’t worry, we don’t have bad news.’

‘Thank God. I just thought…’

‘I know. We still have that effect on some people. On the ones who don’t usually have dealings with the police, at least. It’s about your car. And no, there hasn’t been an accident.’ Pepper smiled, as she said it, preempting his concern. ‘Do you drive to work, Mr. Thompson?’

‘Sometimes, aye, if it’s wet. Otherwise I walk. Good for the waistline, you know.’

‘I do. Have you been out to the industrial estate recently? Visiting a metal fabrication workshop there, it would have been. About something for the hospital, perhaps?’

‘No, no I haven’t. I’m an accountant, I don’t have anything to do with metal, or anything like that.’

‘How about another family member? Your wife, perhaps?’

Thompson smiled. ‘My wife? No, certainly not. Metal’s not really her thing. I’m sorry, but I expect there’s been a bit of a mistake here.’

‘Does anyone else have access to the car, Mr. Thompson?’ asked Copeland, quickly.

‘My son, Micky. He drives it sometimes.’

‘And how old is Micky?’

‘Eighteen.’

‘And he’s at college, is he?’

‘No. He didn’t like it. He’s taking a gap year. You know, while he decides what to do.’

‘Very sensible. And might he have visited Martin Brothers? For a job interview, something like that?’

‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘I expect he’d have said, if he had an interview.’

‘Aye. I expect so. But he doesn’t say much, not to us, anyway.’

‘Teenagers, eh? Can’t live with them.’ Copeland paused, waiting for the smile in response, but it didn’t come. ‘Will Micky be at home now, Mr. Thompson?’

‘Aye. He’ll be asleep, I expect. He normally sleeps in until dinner time. We nag him about it, but it never does any good, does it? They live in their own world at that age, and the lad takes no notice of mum and dad anymore. That stopped about the same time he stopped holding our hand when we crossed the road.’

The Thompson house looked neat in a way that was above and beyond the call of anyone’s duty. The clipped privet and bright white paintwork made Pepper feel inadequate, but also slightly repelled, somehow.

Copeland knocked, stood back, and waited. He grinned when, at the third time of knocking, the door opened, revealing a slight young man in jeans that looked as if he was still putting them on - though it was hard to tell as they rode so low - and a T-shirt promoting a band, or possibly a video game, that Copeland had never heard of.

‘We’re police officers. I’m DC Rex Copeland, and this is acting DI Wilson. Can we come in for a minute?’

‘No. What’s this about?’

‘Your dad’s car. Look it’s nothing to worry about. Just a routine enquiry.’

‘You can’t come in. I know my rights.’

‘Of course you do. We just wanted to ask you if you ever drive your parent’s car? It’s not such a hard question, is it?’

‘Aye, I drive it sometimes. Now, is that it?’

The lad swung the door closed, or almost closed. He looked down, and saw the shiny end of Copeland’s shoe on the doormat.

‘Look, Micky, I know that you haven’t been in any trouble before, so you probably don’t know how this works. But we’ve got a legal right to ask you our questions, and we will. Now we can either do that inside, or you can come with us to the station, right now. It’s your choice. But it’s the only choice you have, I’m afraid.’

The door swung open.

‘Come in, then.’

Rex stood aside and let Pepper go first. Micky Thompson led them into the kitchen. It was small, tidy, and blindingly clean. But then the lad obviously hadn’t had his breakfast yet.

‘What do you do, Micky?’

‘I thought you wanted to know about dad’s car.’

‘We do. Have you used it recently?’

‘Aye, a few times. He’s such a stingy bastard though, always complaining about me using his petrol, and all that.’

‘That’s dads for you.’ Copeland smiled, but the lad didn’t. ‘Have you been to a place on the industrial estate called Martin Brothers?’

The lad wasn’t making any eye contact. But then he hadn’t been, not from the very start.

‘Martin Brothers? Aye, I did, actually. I was asking about a job they’d advertised.’

‘Any luck?’

A shrug. ‘Never heard. But you never do, do you? They don’t give a shit, any of them.’

Copeland was going to ask another question, but Pepper’s phone was ringing, and when he turned towards her, she gestured that they should go. She walked quickly back down the hall, and Copeland said his brief goodbyes and followed her.

‘That was Davey Hood’, she said, ‘he wants to meet.’

‘What, now?’

‘Aye, now. Come on, his mum’s place is only five minutes away. Chop, chop, Rex.’

He grinned. ‘You know it’s probably borderline racist, saying that?’

‘Is it? All right then. How about this? Get a bloody move on, Rex, or I’ll send you back where you came from.’

‘Tottenham?’

‘Exactly. And you wouldn’t want that, would you? Not now you’ve had a taste of the good life up here, like.’

Copeland laughed. ‘Christ, you really believe that shit, don’t you, Pepper?. But what about the lad? Anything?’

‘Couldn’t pull the skin off a rice pudding, love.’

‘Did you see that bruise, on his face?’

‘Aye, I did. Probably fell off his skateboard, or his BMX, or something.’

Copeland drove, following Pepper’s arm-waving directions.

‘Why does he want a meet?’, asked Rex, as he was parking.

‘I suggested it, last night. What happened to Linda, that changes everything.’

‘I hope you’re not going to share any privileged intel with him, Pepper.’

‘Like what? We’ve got sod all to share. No, it’s just a chat, like, that’s all it is.’

Hood opened the front door before Copeland had reached it, and the two men shook hands. Pepper held out her hand as well, and Hood shook.

‘Sitting room’, he said. ‘Mum’s upstairs.’

The big man who’d been completely filling the small sofa stood up when Copeland walked in.

‘This is Josh’ said Hood, offering no further explanation, not that any was needed. The big man left the room like a rhino on tiptoe. The ornaments on the mantlepiece rattled, but at least none actually fell off.

‘I got the message last time, and I’ve not touched Young,’ said Hood, sitting down on his mum’s wing-backed chair and pointing at the sofa that Josh had just vacated. The cushions could do with a good plumping, thought Pepper, as she tried to get comfortable.

‘And has he left you alone?’ asked Pepper.

‘Aye, so far.’

‘So you’ve had no contact with him?’

‘Look, what’s this about? I’m just taking care of my mum, that’s all.’

‘So you have seen Young?’

‘I’ve had a word, aye.’

‘Did it help?’

‘Who? Him, or me?’

‘Either.’

‘It helped me, I’d say. Aye, it went pretty much as I’d expected.’

‘Look, Davey, this isn’t a game, you know. People could get hurt.’

‘You don’t have to tell me. It’s war, is this. But you don’t only win by going straight over the top, like. That just brings medals, pinned on you posthumously by pricks, and I’ve got no plan to die just yet.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘So what was this development you wanted to talk to me about, anyway? Have you found some proper evidence that it was Young who attacked mum, or what?’

Pepper shook her head. ‘No, it’s not about your mum. It’s something else. A woman I know, someone I grew up, has been killed.’

‘Dai Young? I’ve not seen owt on the news about that. Are you keeping it all quiet, like?’

‘No, it wasn’t here that it happened, it was down in Birmingham.’

‘Birmingham? Didn’t know that you’d ever been that far south, Pepper.’

‘Not from choice, marra. Anyway, the point is that we’re pretty sure that Young was involved in my mate’s murder. Without going into the details, let’s just say that this woman was more than my friend.’

‘An informant?’

‘Used to be, aye.

‘Oh, I get it. She was on the run from Young.’ He paused, then clicked his fingers and pointed at Pepper. ‘And she was exposed by a mole in your lot, wasn’t she?’

Pepper nodded, and glanced across at Copeland. He didn’t look impressed.

‘You’re not as green as you’re cabbage looking, Davey. That’s pretty much where we’re at, anyway.’

‘But you do know who this mole is, don’t you?’

‘No. Not yet, but we’re working on it.’

‘What about your oppo here? Could it be him, like?’

‘Now wait a minute’, said Copeland, starting to get up. ‘I’m getting bloody sick…’

‘You’re all right, mate’, said Davey Hood, smiling. ‘I know it’s not you.’

‘Well thanks very much….’

Copeland wasn’t finished, but Pepper cut across him.

‘How do you know that, Davey?’

‘Because we know who your mole is.’

‘How?’

‘You don’t need to know that.’

‘Yes, I fucking do. This isn’t a bloody war game.’

‘All right. We had a little chat with one of Young’s people last night, and he told us.’

‘Just like that?’

‘There was a bit more to it, I admit it. But we didn’t lay a finger on the bloke. Didn’t have to. He was crying and pissing himself before we’d even started asking questions. A low threshold of anticipated pain, that’s what one of my old bosses called it. Very useful it is, and all. Anyway, that’s what chummy had. A very low threshold.’

‘Christ on a bike, Davey. Don’t tell me anything else, or we’ll have to nick you. So who do you reckon it is, then?’

‘Your station commander, Mary Clark.’

‘Bollocks. No way. Your bloke just told you any old shit to stop you from waterboarding him, or whatever.’

‘Then why did he have her personal mobile number on the burner he was carrying?’

‘What was the number?’

Hood told Pepper from memory. You flash bastard, thought Copeland, while Pepper checked her phone.

‘That’s not proof’, she said.

‘I can get proof. If that’s what you really need, like. But I doubt that you do. Not really.’

Pepper jumped up, walked quickly to the window, then back to the middle of the room. The china ornaments, flower girls and a balloon seller, were faintly agitated.

‘Shit. This can’t be true. No way’, she said, although her tone said something very different. How the hell hadn’t she spotted it before, she asked herself, even though she already knew the answer to that question. It was because Mary had never seemed like a proper copper; but that didn’t stop her having access to pretty much all of the information that the constabulary held. So she had a civilian’s vulnerability, but a copper’s knowledge.. But Mary couldn’t have known where Linda was, could she? After all Pepper herself didn’t know. Or at least not until she saw those pictures of her friend’s dead white hands, she didn’t.

‘Who else knows about this?’ asked Copeland, flatly.

‘Just a couple of my lads.’

‘Will they keep their mouths shut?’

Hood just laughed. ‘I don’t think you need to worry about that, mate. That’s the least of your worries, at this point, I’d say. Now then, that’s my contribution to this little get-together, so what’s yours, eh? What I want is to bring that fucker Young down, and all I need to know from you two is this. How are you going to help me achieve my objective?’

‘Now you wait a minute, mate,’ Copeland began, but Pepper held up her hand.

‘Look, Davey, can you sit tight for a day or two? Just while I think this through. Take on board what you’ve told us, like. I don’t want to put anyone at any unnecessary risk. Will you and your mum be safe, meanwhile?’