Horsey Mere (DI Tanner 5), page 17
‘She didn’t know she was pregnant.’
‘Then it’s no great loss, is it. Besides, I’d have thought being knocked about a bit would have come with the job. If she didn’t fancy the idea, she should have thought twice before joining the police. To be honest, it sounds like she’d have been better suited to a career in teaching. One thing I do know, if you go around attacking people when they’re doing nothing more threatening than using a knife they’d just found to remove a stone from the bottom of their shoe, you’re asking for trouble.’
‘You know where he is, don’t you?’
‘I’ve already told you I don’t.’
‘But you have spoken to him though; since last night?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because it’s blindingly obvious that he’s gone to some length to tell you what happened, and that you’ve already managed to come up with a story together to help explain it.’
Carter shrugged again. ‘He may have called, at some point.’
‘Then he would have told you where he was.’
‘I didn’t ask, and he didn’t say.’
‘Bollocks!’
‘Look, I’m sorry about what happened to your colleague, but you’ll just have to accept that it wasn’t my son’s fault.’
Tanner drew in a calming breath.
‘Your son’s presumed innocence is going to be a matter for a court to decide, not you. But that aside for now, it’s not the only thing we want to talk to him about. There’s also the small matter of him throwing a petrol bomb at a shop, with the intention of killing everyone inside, and setting fire to a block of flats, murdering half its residents in the process. And not forgetting, of course, the girl found hanging by her neck at Horsey Mere.’
‘And I suppose he also tried to blow up Parliament as well, did he, maybe having a go at stealing the Crown Jewels whilst he was at it?’
‘Not that I’m aware of, but I’d be more than happy to ask him about it.’
The sound of something heavy being knocked over near the top of the stairs had Tanner trying to glance over his shoulder again, before once more being prevented from doing so.
‘He’s inside, isn’t he?’
‘That was my wife,’ Carter replied. ‘She’s sorting through some stuff upstairs.’
‘I thought you said you were divorced?’
‘Well, I am, but -’
‘ROY CARTER!’ Tanner bellowed, taking a half-step back to stare up at the house. ‘I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!’
‘I’ve already told you, he’s not here.’
‘You do know you’re full of shit, don’t you?’ Tanner said, stepping forward to try and pass the man, only to be blocked once again.
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’
‘I’m going inside to question your son.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you had a search warrant.’
‘I don’t need a search warrant.’
‘Oh, really. That’s a first.’
‘When in active pursuit of someone we believe has committed a serious crime, we have every legal right to enter a private residence, such as yours, without the need of one.’
‘Fair enough, but I’ll have to check that with my lawyer before I can allow you through.’
‘Please, go ahead.’
‘Well, I would, but unfortunately he’s on holiday at the moment. Two weeks in Bermuda. But do feel free to come back when he returns.’
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Tanner muttered. ‘I suggest you stand aside.’
‘Or what?’
‘Or I’ll be charging you with perverting the course of justice by harbouring a known criminal.’
‘But I’m not though, as there’s nobody in there.’
‘Apart from your wife, of course, the one who you said walked out on you when you were inside, never to be seen again.’
‘Anyway, there’s no way I’m letting you go in, not before I’ve either had a chance to speak to my lawyer, or you can provide me with a valid search warrant.’
‘As I said before, I don’t need one.’
‘You also said you were only allowed to enter if you were in active pursuit of someone.’
‘Which is exactly what I’m doing.’
‘So, you were chasing him just now, were you?’
‘We don’t have to be physically chasing after someone to be in active pursuit.’
‘OK, but that’s something else I’ll need to check with my lawyer. In the meantime, I suggest you turn yourself around and toddle off to wherever it was that you came from.’
The sound of an approaching siren had Tanner glancing around at the other houses. One of the neighbours must have overheard their argument and called the police. Under normal circumstances, their imminent arrival would have been most welcome, but not when he knew the man standing directly in front of him was unfortunately correct. He had no legal right to enter the house, as he had no proof that Roy Carter was inside. But if he could prove he was.
Knowing he didn’t have long, Tanner surged forward in a desperate attempt to barge past the man, only to be shoved back.
‘That’s assaulting a police officer, right there!’ Tanner shouted, with growing frustration.
‘Er, no. That’s called self-defence. You’re the one who just attacked me!’
With the siren growing ever-closer, Tanner could feel his self-control fast slipping away. Lurching forward again, this time he threw a punch, straight at Carter’s face, sending him stumbling back against the door, one hand clutching at his nose as he crashed into the house.
‘You – you hit me!’ the man stuttered, blood spurting out from between his fingers. ‘You fucking hit me!’
‘That’s what you get for assaulting a police officer,’ Tanner muttered, stepping over the man to charge up the stairs, heading for the floor above.
CHAPTER FIFTY
REACHING THE LANDING, with the prospect of either Nick Carter coming up after him, or his colleagues from the Norfolk Constabulary, he dived from room to room, conducting the most rudimentary of searches.
With the blaring sound of sirens coming ever-closer, Tanner threw open the last door to find himself inside a large bedroom. At the far end was a small bookcase, lying at an angle against the end of the bed, its contents strewn over the floor. Beyond that was a window that had been left wide open.
‘Shit!’ Tanner cursed, rushing inside to jump over the books and stare out of the window to see the flat roof of an extension, only about ten feet below.
He took a firm hold of the window frame as he stared furiously down. In hindsight, it was blindingly obvious what Nick Carter had been doing; stalling for time, giving his son the best possible chance to make a run for it.
‘I should have hit the bastard sooner,’ he lamented, gazing out at the network of houses and gardens beyond, wondering where he was most likely to have fled.
From the front of the house came the wail of the siren, turning into the cul-de-sac to approach the house. When it was finally turned off, Tanner listened to the uncomfortable silence that followed, broken moments later by the dull thud of two car doors being slammed. The sound of distant voices forced Tanner to begin contemplating the actions he’d taken. Not that he cared all that much, but a detective inspector punching a law-abiding member of the public squarely in the face, for no justifiable reason, was going to have consequences, especially given who that person was. Tanner couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t press charges, if for no other reason than for the publicity such a story would generate towards his election campaign. But Tanner knew that such a case would eventually come down to Carter’s word against his, and Tanner wasn’t the one who’d done six months for GBH.
The only thing he was upset about was for having been stupid enough to let Roy Carter slip away – again! If only he’d had the patience and temperament to have waited for the search warrant, and then to have stood aside whilst his team conducted a legal search of the premises, making sure to cover all means of escape before doing so, they’d have caught Roy Carter skulking inside. Instead, he’d allowed his heart to rule his head, and not for the first time, leaving him with nothing more to show for it than an open window, an over-turned bookcase and an expected charge of assault.
He pivoted around to lean back against the window ledge. There he spent a minute or two coming up with a suitable story for having punched the home’s owner before gaining illegal entry to his property. With something in mind, he skirted around the books still lying over the floor, heading for the landing and the staircase beyond.
‘That’s him!’ Carter shouted, gesticulating madly over at Tanner the moment he emerged from the house. ‘That’s the man who assaulted me!’
Ignoring both the accusation and the person who’d made it, Tanner nodded casually over at the two uniformed officers standing beside him.
‘Higgins, Jones,’ he said, nodding over at them.
‘Afternoon, sir,’ Higgins replied, with the merest hint of a smirk. ‘Mr Carter, here, says you assaulted him. Is there any truth to that?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘You lying sack of shit!’ Carter bleated, spots of blood flying out from his mouth.
‘I’m afraid it was Mr Carter who assaulted me,’ Tanner continued, ‘when I was endeavouring to question him about the location of his bastard son. The state of his face is the unfortunate result.’
‘That’s utter bollocks!’
Tanner turned his head to glance back at the house. ‘It was then that I heard the sound of a disturbance coming from inside, so I felt formally obliged to enter the property in order to investigate.’
‘Did you find anything?’ Higgins questioned, his attention turning to the notes he was making.
‘You’re not seriously listening to this?’ interrupted Carter.
‘Only an open bedroom window with the bookcase underneath having been knocked over. It was probably an opportunistic burglar, taking advantage of the fact that Mr Carter and I were otherwise engaged outside the property. If that was the case, my timely intervention must have deterred them, but I suggest Mr Carter has a look around, just in case anything of value is missing.’
‘That man broke my fucking nose!’
Higgins glanced up to catch Tanner’s eye. ‘Would you like us to arrest Mr Carter, for assaulting a police officer, sir?’
‘WHAT!’ Carter raged, staring at the two uniformed police constables with unhinged incredulity.
‘Not really,’ Tanner replied, with a shrug of indifference. ‘Anyway, I’d better be off. Unlike some people I could mention, I don’t have time to stand idly around all day.’
‘You complete and utter bastard!’
‘If I were you,’ Tanner continued, glancing over at Carter to take in the state of his face, ‘I’d get someone to have a look at that nose of yours. I’ll be honest with you, from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look good.’
CHAPTER FIFTY ONE
RETREATING TO THE only place he had any real interest in being, Tanner made his way back to Wroxham Medical Centre to sit quietly beside Jenny, still lying unconscious within one of their intensive care units.
There he remained for several hours until the combination of hunger, thirst and a tyrannical nurse forced him out, the latter promising that he’d be told the minute there was any news.
Emerging to find day had turned to night, with the sense of being utterly alone, he headed for home, stopping at a local petrol station on the way for something decent to drink.
Twenty minutes later, a hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Jamaican Rum, he was ambling down the footpath towards his yacht, staring down at the unlit footpath passing beneath his feet, when a voice from ahead had him looking up with a start.
‘Tanner? Is that you?’
He didn’t need to see the person’s face to know who it was. The voice was distinctive enough.
‘DCI Forrester, sir?’
‘I hope you don’t mind?’
Tanner shrugged. ‘I didn’t know you knew where I lived.’
‘I asked Vicky.’
‘I didn’t know she knew, either.’
‘I just wanted to stop by, to make sure you were OK.’
‘I’ve been better,’ Tanner replied.
Forrester glanced down to see the bottle clutched in his hand.
‘I do hope you’re not thinking about drinking all that in one go?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Tanner replied, ‘I’ll be using a glass.’
Brushing past Forrester’s vast physical mass, Tanner tucked the bottle under his arm to begin unclipping the canvas entrance.
‘I heard about a disturbance involving Nick Carter, outside his house earlier.’
‘Oh yes?’ Tanner mused, stepping on board to begin rolling up the entrance.
‘He says you assaulted him.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I sincerely hope you didn’t!’
‘I seem to remember telling Higgins what happened.’
‘And I read his report.’
‘So, there you are then.’
‘But it’s in complete contradiction to what Carter said.’
‘I suppose that means you’ll have to decide which one of us you’re going to believe,’ Tanner continued, turning to glower back at Forrester, ‘me, or some xenophobic Neo Nazi.’
‘Yes, well –’
‘Was that it? Can I go now?’
‘Look, Tanner, I didn’t come to talk to you about that.’
‘No?’
‘Well, not only that. He is threatening to press charges, but he’s probably only doing so in an attempt to drum up some media attention for what I suspect has become a somewhat faltering by-election campaign.’
‘So, why are you here?’
‘I wanted to ask you to reconsider what you said earlier, about resigning.’
Without replying, Tanner finished securing the top of the rolled-up canvas to step in through the entrance, into the blackness of the yacht’s rich mahogany cockpit, leaving Forrester standing outside.
‘I was hoping you’d changed your mind,’ he heard him call out, as he set the bottle down on the table to light the cockpit’s oil lamp. As its soothing mellow light pushed gently back against the surrounding darkness, he turned to duck his head back out through the entrance.
‘May I offer you a drink?’
‘Oh, er, I really shouldn’t,’ the DCI replied, before adding, ‘Maybe a small one.’
‘You can come on board; if you like?’
‘Who, me?’ Forrester questioned, gazing along the curvaceous lines of the forty-two-foot 1930s Broads cruiser, an expression of serious misgiving creasing his face. ‘I’d probably sink it.’
‘Somehow, I doubt that.’ Seeing him continue to hesitate, Tanner added, ‘At least you’d be able to sit down.’
‘OK, well, I suppose you only live once.’
Smirking, Tanner watched as Forrester lifted a tentative foot onto the side of the boat. Half-hopping on the other, he bounced himself onboard, only to find the boat tilting suddenly under his enormous weight. As he began falling backwards, Tanner caught hold of his outstretched arm to pull him forward, keeping a hold of it whilst he clambered his way down into the cockpit.
‘I thought you said I wouldn’t sink it.’
‘I must have underestimated just how much you weigh.’
Forrester scowled at him through the oil lamp’s rich orange light.
‘Anyway,’ Tanner continued, handing him an empty glass tumbler, ‘a drink for your efforts?’
Spinning the top off the brand-new bottle of Jamaican Rum, he poured out a generous measure of the deep cinnamon-coloured liquid into first Forrester’s glass, then his own.
Thanking him for the drink, Forrester glanced around. ‘It’s certainly cosy.’
‘We like to think so. I’m only sorry Jenny can’t be here to give you a guided tour. My knowledge of what everything is has improved, but not by much. Anyway, take a seat.’
As they eased themselves down onto the opposing benches, Forrester took the opportunity to ask, ‘Has there been any news?’
‘Nothing,’ Tanner replied, fishing out his phone to stare down at the screen before laying it down on the table directly in front of him. ‘I’ve just come from the medical centre. Her condition hasn’t changed.’
‘Well, don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be back on her feet in no time.’
Downing the drink in one, Tanner poured himself another. ‘Have there been any developments at work?’
‘We’ve had a forensics report back on the petrol used on the Glenwood Estate. It wasn’t the same used for the petrol bomb thrown at the shop.’
‘I’m not surprised. I doubt if even Roy Carter is stupid enough to have bought the exact same brand from the exact same petrol station.’
‘Possibly not, but it doesn’t help to support the theory that he was the one who set fire to the place.’
‘Apart from the two witnesses who said they saw him run out, just before it started.’
‘They only said they saw someone wearing a grey hoodie, which in fairness could be half the teenage population of Norfolk.’
‘Who else would have had the motive, being that Zara Haddad was trapped at the top?’
‘We still don’t know that she was, at least not officially.’
‘I think she’d have come forward by now if she hadn’t been. After all, that was her home, where her entire family lived. But whether or not she was makes no difference. The fact that she lived at the top gives Roy Carter motive for having set fire to it.’
‘Because he believed she was one of three witches who cast a spell on him, killing them being the only way to break it?’ questioned Forrester, his voice drenched in doubt.
‘As that shop owner, Mrs Matar, keeps telling me, probably her daughter as well, it’s not what we believe that’s important. Speaking of whom, I assume they’re both still OK?’
‘We’ve still got a squad car parked outside the hotel.’
‘What about the murder of Anya Chadha? Has anything been found to link Roy Carter to the scene at Horsey Mere?’
