A Roman Shadow, page 8
Shadow looked down at his rather unappetising lunch and shook his head. Even if he possessed close friends, he couldn’t imagine anyone would be interested in seeing a picture of this sandwich.
“The world’s gone mad,” he grumbled. “Does nobody have a private life anymore?”
After lunch, they made their way back to the station. Jimmy’s phoned bleeped as they walked down Stonegate. He tapped the screen and read the message out loud.
“There was a delayed flight from Shanghai to Heathrow that morning. It was two hours late due to bad weather, Chief. They’ve emailed me a list of all passengers. Ling Li isn’t on the list, but there is another name.”
“Denise Wong by any chance?”
“Yes, Chief.”
Chapter Five
Down 4.
A pound, euro or dime to pay in company partly (4 letters)
Back at the station, one of the small incident rooms had been set up for the two investigations. There were a handful of desks and a few whiteboards. Only a couple of uniformed officers were present and they were both manning the phones, taking calls from members of the public with reports of seeing young Chinese women, who on closer investigation weren’t Ling.
“Is it my imagination or are we a little short-handed?” asked Shadow as he shrugged off his old wax jacket and draped it on the back of the nearest chair.
“It’s February half-term, Chief. A lot of the officers with children have taken the week off,” explained Jimmy.
“I could help, sir,” offered Tom eagerly, appearing from behind one of the whiteboards he’d wheeled into the room.
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” Shadow asked slightly sceptically.
“I’ve been assigned to help Sergeant Hedley in the records office, but he doesn’t seem to like me touching anything. He sent me down here to help.”
“Fine, well unless you are fluent in Chinese, you can concentrate on the museum theft. Sergeant Chang will give you the list of volunteers at the museum. Run them through the computer and make sure none of them are criminal masterminds in disguise. Do the same with Pete and Glenn, the two new security guards. See what you can find out about their time in the army. Then check and see if any other museums have reported similar thefts in the last few years.”
Tom scurried away eagerly and Shadow turned to Jimmy. “As we didn’t get any other helpful responses to Ling’s disappearance from The Herald, get on to the press office at HQ, see if they can get her picture on the television news.”
“No problem, Chief. Then I thought I’d look and see if either of the missing girls from Shanghai have got a Weibo account.”
“What on earth is that?”
“It’s like the Chinese version of Facebook or Twitter. You know social media, like I was telling you about in the café. I thought Ling or Mei might have posted something.”
Shadow wasn’t entirely sure he did know, but he was prepared to defer to Jimmy on this point. He sat down at one of the empty desks with a telephone. Even if Jimmy’s theory of the theft being an insurance scam was inspired, by the plot of a Hollywood film, it wouldn’t hurt to find out what financial position the museum was in. With a heavy heart he put a call into the accountant and museum trustee Jonty Woodhead. Jonty was well suited to his profession. He treated every conversation as if it was a transaction, carefully weighing up if the details should be listed under assets or liabilities in the balance sheet of his mind.
“I’m really not sure I should speak to you without first taking Rutherford’s counsel,” the accountant hedged after much humming and hawing. Shadow raised his eyes to the ceiling, he knew he shouldn’t have bothered phoning him.
“All I can tell you,” Jonty carried on, “is that the museum is a registered charity. A charity by definition is to be of benefit to the public, not necessarily to make a profit.”
Shadow took that to mean the place wasn’t making money, but he knew the careful accountant wouldn’t tell him any more, so he thanked him for his time and hung up. It seemed insurance fraud was still a possibility, but would Dunnington take such a risk? And if not him, who?
His next call was to the National Crime Agency. After being transferred several times, then put on hold for at least ten minutes, he was finally put through to Inspector Saskia Grabowski, who had spoken to the Chinese authorities about the missing Mei Wu. He briefly told her what had happened with Ling Li’s disappearance.
“Have you discovered anything that makes you think the two women are connected?” he asked. He could hear Inspector Grabowski sigh, before she replied.
“It’s possible, Chief Inspector, but to be honest we think there could be thousands of Chinese nationals living here illegally. Some are here for economic reasons, some for political ones, others have been trafficked by snakehead gangs and are exploited terribly when they get here. You’ll remember the Morecambe Bay disaster?”
Shadow did remember the dreadful story of how at least twenty-one Chinese illegal immigrant workers had drowned while picking cockles in the bay. It also transpired they had been paid only a £1 a day.
“Are you investigating any cases in North Yorkshire currently?” he asked.
“No, but it’s probably happening in most towns and cities. Sometimes it feels like we are fighting a losing battle. I’ll make a note of Ling’s name and details. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know, Chief Inspector.”
As he was finishing his conversation with Inspector Grabowski, Shadow could see Tom telling Jimmy something. Not for the first time, Shadow was relieved his sergeant didn’t play poker. He was incapable of hiding his emotions. Whatever Jimmy had been told had clearly disappointed him.
“Problem?” Shadow asked as he put down the receiver.
“I checked the museum staff like you asked, sir,” began Tom enthusiastically. “They are all clean. Pete and Glenn both enlisted at sixteen, straight from school and after ten years’ service were each given an honourable discharge. Then I checked the museums. Only one reported theft of an exhibit in the last four years. Chester Museum had a musket dating from the time of the Civil War stolen about three years ago. They never found out who took it, but it was recovered after it was used in an armed robbery in Liverpool.”
Shadow frowned.
“That sounds like it was stolen to order, but I can’t see a connection between an old firearm and our stolen coins.”
“No.” Jimmy sighed. “Except before she came to the Eboracum Museum, Dr Shepherd was curator at the Chester Museum. The police interviewed her as the theft took place only a month after she’d left. She had an alibi for the night the musket was taken. She was at a murder mystery event in Suffolk, at Camilla Dunnington’s mother’s house.” Jimmy paused. “It might just be another coincidence, Chief.”
Shadow paused for a moment while he processed this information. As much as his sergeant didn’t want Dorothy to be involved, could the thefts from both of Dr Shepherd’s most recent places of employment be down to more than bad luck? It was also strange that the ex-wife of her new boss should be the one to provide her with an alibi for the first crime. He turned to Tom and the constables manning the phones.
“Somebody get me the number for Camilla Dunnington in Suffolk,” he ordered. A few minutes later he was holding a receiver to his ear again, listening to it ring. A woman’s voice answered. Shadow introduced himself, but before he could check whom he was speaking to and explain what his call was about, the woman interrupted him.
“Ah, Chief Inspector Shadow, I thought I might be hearing from you. I take it you want to discuss the theft of the Roman coins from the Eboracum Museum?”
“Yes, when did you hear about it, Mrs Dunnington?”
“Oh a couple of days ago. I’m still in regular contact with Maud and Dennis and a few of the old gang. Now as much as I would like to help you, Chief Inspector, I was just on my way out when you called. I run a local history group in our village hall, and I hate to be late. Perhaps we could schedule another time to chat? How about tomorrow at 9am? Let’s make it a Zoom meeting. I always think it’s best to talk face to face whenever possible, don’t you?”
Shadow covered the mouthpiece with his hand.
“She said she wants to Zoom. Can we do that?” he whispered to Jimmy. His sergeant grinned and gave him a thumbs up. Shadow cleared his throat and confidently replied, “Yes that will be fine, Mrs Dunnington. I’ll look forward to speaking with you tomorrow.”
“What on earth’s a Zoom meeting?” he asked as soon as he put the phone back down.
“It’s only like having a video call, Chief. Don’t worry, I’ll get it set up for you,” Jimmy reassured him.
Shadow stood up and shook his head. People said technology was there to make life easier; he found it made his more complicated. He stepped out into the corridor where one of the station’s many temperamental coffee machines was situated. He pressed the necessary buttons then waited for the machine to splutter and gurgle into action. Back in the incident room he could hear Jimmy and Tom chatting.
“So you didn’t fancy getting away for some winter sun too, Tom?”
“No, not really. I’m not a big fan of sitting on the beach. My skin’s too pale; I always get sunburnt and peel.”
“It’s meant to be good for you. Not getting burnt but sitting in the sun I mean. Sophie was telling me about people getting ill because of lack of sunlight. SAD, seasonal affective disorder—that’s what they call it. She said it can make you miserable, more irritable, less sociable.”
“Do you think that’s what’s wrong with the chief?”
“No, he’s the same even when it’s sunny.”
Out in the corridor Shadow rolled his eyes as he collected his coffee.
“I’ve left the room, not lost my hearing,” he bellowed. “Don’t make me regret letting you work here before you’ve even begun, Tom.”
He decided to leave Jimmy and Tom in the incident room and take his cup of disappointing brown liquid to pay his old friend George a visit. Sergeant George Hedley was up in the records office and had worked at the station longer than anyone else. There wasn’t much that had happened in the city over the last forty years that he didn’t know about. The only downside was he worked in the top of the old Guildhall tower, which meant Shadow was usually exhausted by the time he climbed up the stairs to reach him.
“What can you tell me about Ernest Level?” he asked as he flopped down in the chair opposite his old friend.
“Honest Ernie?” George laughed, but Shadow looked at him blankly. “Don’t you remember those terrible adverts he used to do on local radio? ‘If you want to sell your unwanted gold for the best price, come to Honest Ernie. He’s always on the level’.” George tunelessly sang the jingle, but Shadow was still none the wiser.
“I’m not really a fan of local radio,” he replied. “So he didn’t only deal old and rare coins.”
“No, he dabbled in jewellery, old stamps, some antiques—anything he could get his hands on. He was what we used to call a bit of a ‘wheeler dealer’. Larger than life and not just physically. You’d see him whizzing around in his red sports car, the top down no matter the weather so everyone could see him. Always had a big, fat cigar clamped in his mouth and some young woman or other by his side.”
“Do you know why he left York?”
“From what I heard at the time, it could have been for any number of reasons: customers who felt they’d been cheated, disgruntled business associates, irate husbands. He was quite the ladies’ man you know.”
“So I hear,” replied Shadow, thinking that it sounded like Le Vel junior had inherited several of his father’s characteristics. George got up and wandered over to a shelf of files. He ran a finger along them before selecting one and pulling it out. He began flicking through.
“Ah yes I thought so,” he said looking up and peering at Shadow over his glasses. “Not long after he disappeared West Midlands got in touch with us. They were trying to track him down. They wanted to talk to him in connection with some fake gold sovereigns that had turned up in the jewellery quarter.”
“Did anything come of it?”
George read on a little further and shook his head. “No, it doesn’t look like it. It was rumoured he was in Hong Kong, but he was never found.”
Before he left Shadow asked George about the two names of the ex-security guards Stephanie had given to him.
“I thought they rang a bell,” said Shadow.
“So they should,” replied George. “They’re ex-coppers. They both used to work here, took early retirement about ten years ago. Nice lads and as honest as they come. I caught up with them for a pint about a month ago. Neither were very happy with being dismissed from the museum I can tell you.”
“They were dismissed?”
“Yes, by the ‘blonde bimbo’ as they called her.”
“Ah the new Mrs Dunnington strikes again,” said Shadow with a wry smile.
“That’s her—Miss Roper that was,” replied George.
“Do you know her?”
“Know of her. She’s Tony Roper’s daughter. Hadn’t you heard?”
Shadow looked at his old friend in surprise. Tony Roper was a well-known criminal. He was the closest thing North Yorkshire had ever had to a gangster. He’d been involved in everything from armed robberies to extortion. About ten years ago, he’d been sent down for a twenty-two-year stretch. Harrogate had been the base for most of his activities, but Shadow had given evidence in his trial regarding an attempted bank robbery in York.
“When Tony was put away, Stephanie and her mum Sharon went back down south,” George continued. Shadow nodded as he recalled an attractive blonde woman who had been led away sobbing when Tony’s sentence was read out. Well, that at least went some way to explaining Stephanie’s animosity towards him and his colleagues. She would only have been a teenager when her father was taken away from her.
“Where’s Roper now?” he asked.
“The last I heard he’d been moved up here to Full Sutton after attempting to break out of Chelmsford, but that was over a year ago.”
Shadow stood up to leave. Perhaps that explained why Stephanie had returned to York. Full Sutton was a category-A prison about twelve miles out of the city. Maybe she wanted to be close to her father. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
“Do you know if Ernie Level and Roper were associates, George?”
The sergeant removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes as he often did when thinking.
“Not that I can recall, but I suppose it’s possible. Ernie left the city not long after Roper’s trial, but I don’t know if there was a definite connection.”
Shadow thanked George and as he left the records office, he wondered if Stephanie’s dislike of the police was the only trait she shared with her father. Was she still in touch with members of the criminal fraternity? Was her father’s prison move the only reason she had returned to Yorkshire?
*
Back down in the incident room, Jimmy was watching the early evening news on his laptop. Shadow sat down in the chair next to him. The lead story on the national news was about a gang of people smugglers, who were due to be sentenced after thirty-nine Vietnamese migrants had been found dead in the back of their refrigerated truck somewhere in Essex. Shadow shuddered. He could think of few worse ways to die than slowly suffocating in the dark and freezing cold. He was reminded of the stories throughout the summer of other illegal migrants—sometimes women and young children risking their lives to cross the Channel in little more than rubber dinghies. They came from all over, from Syria to Sudan, all hoping for a better life, even if it meant risking their own. He hated the thought that someone in his own city was exploiting these desperate people.
“How long do you think the smuggling gang will get, Chief?” asked Jimmy.
“Not long enough,” replied Shadow grimly.
The local bulletin at the end of the news gave a calm and concise report about the disappearance of Ling. Now they could only hope it would provide further leads.
*
Before Shadow left the station, he went to his office and made a call to the governor of Full Sutton prison.
“I understand you have Tony Roper staying with you?”
“We did, Chief Inspector, but unfortunately he died of a heart attack about eighteen months ago. He’d only been here a few weeks.”
“Really?” asked Shadow. He was slightly surprised that neither he nor George had heard this news.
“Yes, he was moved here after a failed attempted to break out of Chelmsford.”
“I don’t suppose you can remember if his daughter, Stephanie, ever visited him while he was with you?”
“Yes, I do actually. He told me she had moved up here to be near him. They were very close.”
“Do you know why he tried to break out of Chelmsford? It’s only category B and he must have been getting close to being considered for parole.”
“I agree it didn’t make much sense, but I heard it was something to do with his family. He’d been told his wife was seeing someone on the outside and didn’t take too kindly to the news.”
“Was it true?”
“I don’t think so. It sounded like someone was winding him up. He was known for having a short fuse to say the least. I do know his wife, Sharon, and Stephanie organised his funeral back down in Essex. I saw Sharon there. She was absolutely distraught, but it was a very quiet affair—less than half a dozen mourners including myself and no press.”
Could that be the reason why he hadn’t heard about the death, thought Shadow as he thanked the governor and ended the call. As he left the station, he kept thinking about the Ropers and wondered how much Dunnington knew about the family he had married into.
Chapter Six
Across 6.
Slowly inch a step towards this country (5 letters)
Later that evening, although his meal at La Scuola Femminile was as delicious as ever, for once Shadow didn’t linger over his risotto or his Barolo. The tables surrounding him were full of romantic couples and he had no desire to become part of any impromptu engagement celebrations. He had a feeling the restaurant owners, Francesco and Lucia, would be every bit as enthusiastic as Maria and Gino about a proposal taking place in their establishment. They had even cajoled Marco, their teenage son, into walking amongst the tables playing romantic melodies on his violin. He rolled his eyes at Shadow as he passed by his table.
