When the Night Ends, page 3
‘How was he?’
‘Jennings? Slow and slightly hard of hearing. I got the impression he was already dreaming of his slippers, nice warm fires and cups of cocoa in the evenings.’
‘Close to retirement?’
‘I think he’d already ordered his watch.’ She pointed to his chair. ‘He didn’t move much from there and left at four o’clock every day. Long drive back to Buxton apparently.’
Ridpath touched the file he had just put on his desk. ‘That’s why the coroner has asked me to take a look at this.’
‘Can I help?’ She pointed to her laptop. ‘I’m stuck on statistics for the chief coroner. You know there has been a growth in misdiagnoses or failures to diagnose since GPs were asked to use Zoom rather than see patients in person?’
‘Doesn’t surprise me. It would be like interviewing a suspect on a laptop; you’d miss the little cues showing somebody is lying. The slight shift in position on a chair. The touching of the nose. The failure to look somebody in the eye. Or even staring at someone too much.’
‘You and my mother would get on well. She always knows when I’m lying too.’
‘So you’re not busy?’
‘I didn’t say I wasn’t. But I need something to get my teeth into a job and death statistics is not it.’
He sat down behind his desk. ‘Right, you can help me with this.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
‘What did you do with Brian Jennings?’
‘I helped him create a witness list. We went through the statements given to the PSD and the IOPC investigations, calling anybody who they had interviewed. All the police witnesses had aliases like Police M or Police W. Luckily they also gave us a list of the real names and addresses with the corresponding aliases. I’ve changed all the documents for you. The notices were sent out last Wednesday. So far, everybody has replied except a Sergeant Saunders and one of the custody officers, Lucas Harvey.’
‘Mrs Challinor is following up on Saunders with his solicitor. Can you find Harvey?’
‘Will do.’
‘Did you interview the family and the witnesses?’
She shook her head. ‘Like I said, Brian Jennings was more of a desk jockey. We just used the witness statements and he never went to see the family.’
Ridpath began to roll up his sleeves. ‘Right, first thing to do is let me read these statements and then we’ll start seeing the witnesses and checking their testimony. But before then, you need to do me a couple of favours. Send copies of this post-mortem and the pictures to Dr Schofield; I’d like a second opinion. You two are still talking?’
‘Why wouldn’t we be?’ came the tetchy reply.
Sophia and Dr Schofield had dated each other briefly but the relationship had quietly fizzled out.
‘Sorry, I just meant—’
‘I’ll send them across right away,’ she interrupted. ‘And the other favours are?’
‘Who have you been dealing with at the police?’
‘One of the public relations people, Angela Dexter; she’s not been very cooperative.’
‘Why does that not surprise me? Can you arrange for me to visit Redbury nick; I’d like to see the place.’
‘You’ve never been there?’
Ridpath shook his head. ‘It’s one of those small suburban stations. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Can you call the family? I’d like us to go to see them as soon as possible. Today would be great.’
‘Us?’
‘You and me?’
‘You want me to go?’
Ridpath looked around the office. ‘That’s generally what us means. You’ve cleared all your other work?’
‘All done and dusted… now.’
‘Make the call and we’ll be on our way.’
‘Don’t forget you have your weekly meeting at Police HQ this afternoon.’
Ridpath’s eyes rolled into his head. ‘Try to arrange it before then if you can.’
‘I saw that,’ said Sophia, smiling. After a few moments, the smile vanished and she said, ‘You know this case is going to attract a lot of attention? The death was in the papers three years ago – demonstrations on the streets and outside the station where it happened, allegations of police brutality. Even more news last year when the CPS decided not to prosecute.’
‘We shouldn’t let those sorts of pressures affect our work. The coroner wants us to dig deep before the inquest and make sure we do a fair job for the family and for the police. Let me go through the file and work out a plan of action.’
He opened the case file. It seemed very thin. The usual biographical details. Ben Holdsworth was thirty-six years old when he was detained, born in Middleton but resident in Cheetham Hill. Two previous arrests, one for possession of a small amount of cannabis, the other for driving without a functioning brake light. Separated from his wife, Rosie Holdsworth, two kids, Danny and Audrey. He turned the page expecting to see more but it was blank.
‘Is that all?’ he said out loud.
‘What?’ asked Sophia.
‘Nothing, just talking to myself.’
‘The first sign of madness, I’ve been told.’
‘Nah, the first sign of madness is when you hear an answer.’
He took his notepad out from his jacket pocket and wrote HOLDSWORTH CASE in block capitals followed by the date.
Beneath he scrawled:
Victim’s bio? More details?
Followed by:
Old arrest logs? Where? Check with Chrissy.
Chrissy was the civilian researcher he often worked with at Police HQ. She would have access to the Police National Computer and Crime Database.
He turned over the page and saw a photocopy of the custody file for Ben Holdsworth signed by Tony Saunders.
CUSTODY REPORT
Name of Detainee: Ben Holdsworth
D.O.B.: 12/01/1982
Race/Sex: IC1 MALE
Place of Birth: MANCHESTER
Address: NFA
Date/Time of Arrest: February 21, 2018. 03.10
Arrest Number: 3659/19
Also Known As (Alias Names): NA
Scars, Marks, Tattoos: NONE
Nearest Relative Name: MOTHER: MAUREEN HOLDSWORTH
Hgt Wgt: 181 cm, 82 kilos.
Occupation: NOT GIVEN
Hair Eye OLN and State: GOOD
Skin Tone/Consumed Drug/Alcohol: GOOD. NONE CONSUMED.
Calls Made: TWO. DETAILS IN PHONE LOG.
Custody Rights: EXPLAINED AND UNDERSTOOD.
Arresting Officer Name/ID Number: PC CHRIS CARTER 4349
Place Confined: REDBURY STATION
Narrative: Mr Holdsworth was arrested following a local tip-off he was dealing drugs from his car. PC Carter found the drugs on the front seat of a Mini Cooper S driven by Mr Holdsworth. The said drugs have been bagged as evidence and are held at 7689/19/342. Mr Holdsworth was arrested and brought to the station after being advised of his rights. I am certain his arrest was in accordance with the standards set by the College of Policing and have detained Mr Holdsworth pending further investigation.
Charges: 1994 DRUG TRAFFICKING ACT, INTENT TO SUPPLY. HELD PENDING FURTHER INVESTIGATIONS.
Detention Confirmed: 03.40
Date/Time Released:
Arresting Officer Signature/ID #: CHRIS CARTER PC 4349
Date/Time Submitted: 03.45
Custody Supervisor Signature: SGT TONY SAUNDERS 3975 03.45 21/02/2018
Arrestee Signature: REFUSED
Case Status:
Further Inv. Inactive
Case Disposition:
Notes:
1. ORDERED STRIP SEARCH OF DEFENDANT BY CUSTODY OFFICERS, RODGERS AND HARVEY. NO DRUGS FOUND.
2. PLACED IN CELL 3 @ 03.50.
3. CELLS 3 AND 4 CCTV CEASED OPERATION @ 04.35. ORDERED HALF HOURLY MONITORING.
4. DETAINEE SEEN ON FLOOR OF CELL BY CUSTODY OFFICER HARVEY. UNRESPONSIVE. 06.30. ATTEMPTED CPR. STILL UNRESPONSIVE.
5. DUTY DOCTOR CALLED 06.35.
6. AMBULANCE ARRIVES 06.43. DETAINEE TAKEN TO SALFORD GENERAL ACCOMPANIED BY HARVEY.
7. PAUSED CLOCK ON DETAINEE’S DETENTION TIME PENDING RETURN FROM HOSPITAL.
Ridpath read through the file twice, making sure he understood it. To him, everything looked kosher. In many ways, Tony Saunders had been too accommodating with Holdsworth. If he were in charge, he wouldn’t have allowed him to make a second call, but Saunders had. Doing a strip search in a drugs case was also standard operating procedure.
He turned the page and began reading the witness statements from Saunders, the two custody officers, and the arresting officers.
Again, everything looked straightforward and all the detention procedures had been followed. The description from Tony Saunders matched that of the two custody officers.
At 06.30, I was called by Custody Officer HARVEY to an incident occurring in Custody Suite 3. I went immediately there and found the deceased stretched out on the floor with the custody officer standing beside him. I immediately began to give CPR in the correct way and ordered Custody Officer HARVEY to get the duty medical officer who was then examining the teenagers who had been arrested earlier for joyriding.
The medical officer, Dr BOURKE, arrived at 06.35. After applying CPR again, the detainee remained unresponsive. Dr BOURKE called for an ambulance using his mobile phone. The ambulance and emergency responders arrived eight minutes later at 06.43.
Mr Holdsworth was placed on a gurney and removed from the station at 06.50. I entered a log of the event into the Police Station Management System and paused the timing on his custody records.
The copper in Ridpath was impressed. Saunders had paused the clock, meaning if Ben Holdsworth had been returned to the station, the police would still have twenty-four hours minus the time he had already spent at the nick to investigate his case. However, it was a little cold-hearted given he had been giving CPR to the man just twenty minutes earlier.
Ridpath continued reading.
I received a phone call from the victim’s mother at 07.20 and told her he had been taken to Salford General Hospital. I was unaware of his condition before my shift ended.
Interesting the mother had called. Had Holdsworth made one of his calls to her? Otherwise how did she know her son had been detained?
The next page was a brief note from the hospital. According to their reports, Holdsworth had arrived in A&E at 07.04, but despite their best efforts, they were unable to save his life. He was pronounced dead at 07.36. His body was transferred to the mortuary and a post-mortem was performed at 13.10 the same day.
That was quick. Ridpath checked the name of the pathologist.
Statement of Dr Harold Lardner, BSc, MB, BS, MRC Path.
Age of Witness: 54
Occupation: Greater Manchester Police Pathologist
Address: Forensic Pathology Services, Oxford Road, Manchester.
Ridpath closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged.
Why did it have to be him?
Chapter Five
He was sure they were waiting in the car outside his house.
Two of them, big blokes who looked like they had to share a brain cell in order to function.
He’d seen them when he came home from work this morning. It had been a long hard night shift at the slaughterhouse, getting the carcasses ready for Christmas. Pigs, chickens, turkeys all had to be killed, hung, dressed and packed. He’d worked a couple of hours overtime too, time to get saving if he wanted to pack the job in and go to Thailand in the new year.
God, he hated this time of year. For everybody else it meant starting to plan the Christmas Day feast. For him, it meant working long hours as the days grew shorter. Sometimes he didn’t even see daylight, going to work when it was dark at seven in the evening and getting home while it was still dark and sleeping through the daylight hours.
He’d started working there over three years before when he’d moved into the area. It was a job nobody else wanted, and nobody cared who you were or where you came from. Which suited him perfectly.
He’d arrived home at nine that morning, after taking the bus from work, getting off at his usual stop and walking back to the cottage.
That was what the grasping estate agent had called his rented two up, two down back-to-back without a hint of irony and even less truthfulness. But he needed a place to live far from his usual stomping grounds and this was available right away. It was right next to the only cotton mill still operating in England. It always amused him that, in a region built on cotton, he could still hear the sound of yarns being spun.
He’d come home that morning, walked past the mill, turning onto his street. As usual, the light at the corner was out of action, but parked beneath it was a black SUV with its lights off and two large, dark shapes sitting in the front seats.
He hurried across the road, deliberately walking past his house without going in.
What was he going to do?
Had they finally found him? Finally worked out where he had gone? But they’d had an agreement. As long as he disappeared they would leave him alone.
All his stuff was in the house. His passport, clothes, laptop, all the things he needed to get away again.
He’d planned for this moment, knew it was going to happen one day, just not when. Now, he’d been caught short.
He turned right at the end of the road, casually glancing back to the SUV. The men were still sitting in the front. Had they noticed him walking past them? Were they waiting for the lights in the house to go on before knocking on the door? Or had they not recognised him with his new shaven head?
What was he going to do?
The ginnel leading to the rear of his house was on his right. Or he just could run away, take a shortcut through the park, past the crematorium and back into Manchester.
He told himself not to panic. Perhaps they weren’t after him at all. Perhaps they were waiting for someone else.
Besides, how could they have found him? He had changed his name, got a new passport and driving licence, left his old life and his friends behind.
He thought for a moment. Had Elaine dobbed him in?
A week ago, shopping in Tesco, he’d bumped into her with her three snot-nosed kids.
‘Fancy meeting you here. You’re living close by, are you?’
He’d been surprised seeing her and had mumbled some inaudible reply.
‘You’re going to have to speak up. When you have kids they make you a little deaf, my mum says. She should know, she had six of us.’ A nervous laugh.
‘I said I live nearby.’
‘Oh, great, we can be neighbours then. I married Terry. Remember him from school? Got four kids now, one’s with my mum. What are you doing?’
‘This and that.’
‘And a bit of the other, I’m sure. You were always a bit of a flash one.’ She’d nudged him in the ribs playfully. ‘How’s your mum? I used to like your mum when we was courting. Proper lady, she was.’
‘She died four years ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear it. God rest her soul.’
‘Anyway, I’ve got to be off,’ he’d said, desperate to get away.
She’d paused for a moment before saying, ‘I missed you, you know. You were my first real boyfriend.’
Another long pause as she waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she carried on. ‘Terry’s a lorry driver, he’s away a lot. We should go for a drink one night; Mum’ll look after the kids. Be like old times…’
He’d mumbled another non-committal answer and then escaped.
Had she mentioned meeting him to somebody, and that’s why two thugs were sitting in a car outside his house? Or was he over-reacting, and they were waiting for somebody else?
He couldn’t take the chance.
He nipped down the ginnel and climbed over the wall behind his house. There was a spare key hidden on the ledge above the rear door. He reached up for it, praying it was still there, feeling for it with his fingertips.
He touched the rough metal outline of the key, taking it down and slowly opening the door. He stood in the entrance for a second, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness inside.
Was somebody waiting for him in the dark?
He listened carefully for the sound of breathing or the rustle of cloth against the fabric of a seat. His whole body was tense, holding his breath, ready to run at the slightest sound.
Nothing.
He stepped inside, stopped and listened again, before slowly closing the door.
He finally breathed out, relaxing for a second.
‘Long time, no see, mate,’ came a voice from the shadows.
Chapter Six
Ridpath stared at the first page of the post-mortem report.
Lardner’s scrawled signature was at the bottom. A name from the past now staring at him from the pages of the present.
Ridpath had arrested the pathologist in his first case working for the coroner. The man was a serial predator, the Beast of Manchester, killing women brutally and without mercy. For years, he had hidden in plain sight, investigating his own crimes and covering them up, driven by a compulsion to cause pain. He was now locked up safely and securely in Ashworth high-security psychiatric hospital near Liverpool.
After their last meeting, Ridpath had hoped he wouldn’t have to see him again. But here he was again, turning up like a bad smell from an old midden.
Ridpath scanned the report quickly, jumping to the most important section at the end. Lardner’s voice spoke to him in every line, the ironic, slightly mocking tone present even in official documents.
CONCLUSIONS
This man died from a subdural haematoma to the brain, caused by striking his skull on the wall of the cell. CCTV evidence shows him falling and hitting his head. (Attached stills from CCTV in Appendix 3.) This injury would not have been obvious to an untrained observer, but should have led to increasingly erratic behaviour such as an inability to stand, shaking of the head, lack of coordination of the motor functions and dizziness.
The discovery of the man on the floor of the cell is not surprising. The subdural haematoma would eventually lead to his inability to maintain his normal motor and perceptual functions and cause a final collapse.
‘Jennings? Slow and slightly hard of hearing. I got the impression he was already dreaming of his slippers, nice warm fires and cups of cocoa in the evenings.’
‘Close to retirement?’
‘I think he’d already ordered his watch.’ She pointed to his chair. ‘He didn’t move much from there and left at four o’clock every day. Long drive back to Buxton apparently.’
Ridpath touched the file he had just put on his desk. ‘That’s why the coroner has asked me to take a look at this.’
‘Can I help?’ She pointed to her laptop. ‘I’m stuck on statistics for the chief coroner. You know there has been a growth in misdiagnoses or failures to diagnose since GPs were asked to use Zoom rather than see patients in person?’
‘Doesn’t surprise me. It would be like interviewing a suspect on a laptop; you’d miss the little cues showing somebody is lying. The slight shift in position on a chair. The touching of the nose. The failure to look somebody in the eye. Or even staring at someone too much.’
‘You and my mother would get on well. She always knows when I’m lying too.’
‘So you’re not busy?’
‘I didn’t say I wasn’t. But I need something to get my teeth into a job and death statistics is not it.’
He sat down behind his desk. ‘Right, you can help me with this.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
‘What did you do with Brian Jennings?’
‘I helped him create a witness list. We went through the statements given to the PSD and the IOPC investigations, calling anybody who they had interviewed. All the police witnesses had aliases like Police M or Police W. Luckily they also gave us a list of the real names and addresses with the corresponding aliases. I’ve changed all the documents for you. The notices were sent out last Wednesday. So far, everybody has replied except a Sergeant Saunders and one of the custody officers, Lucas Harvey.’
‘Mrs Challinor is following up on Saunders with his solicitor. Can you find Harvey?’
‘Will do.’
‘Did you interview the family and the witnesses?’
She shook her head. ‘Like I said, Brian Jennings was more of a desk jockey. We just used the witness statements and he never went to see the family.’
Ridpath began to roll up his sleeves. ‘Right, first thing to do is let me read these statements and then we’ll start seeing the witnesses and checking their testimony. But before then, you need to do me a couple of favours. Send copies of this post-mortem and the pictures to Dr Schofield; I’d like a second opinion. You two are still talking?’
‘Why wouldn’t we be?’ came the tetchy reply.
Sophia and Dr Schofield had dated each other briefly but the relationship had quietly fizzled out.
‘Sorry, I just meant—’
‘I’ll send them across right away,’ she interrupted. ‘And the other favours are?’
‘Who have you been dealing with at the police?’
‘One of the public relations people, Angela Dexter; she’s not been very cooperative.’
‘Why does that not surprise me? Can you arrange for me to visit Redbury nick; I’d like to see the place.’
‘You’ve never been there?’
Ridpath shook his head. ‘It’s one of those small suburban stations. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Can you call the family? I’d like us to go to see them as soon as possible. Today would be great.’
‘Us?’
‘You and me?’
‘You want me to go?’
Ridpath looked around the office. ‘That’s generally what us means. You’ve cleared all your other work?’
‘All done and dusted… now.’
‘Make the call and we’ll be on our way.’
‘Don’t forget you have your weekly meeting at Police HQ this afternoon.’
Ridpath’s eyes rolled into his head. ‘Try to arrange it before then if you can.’
‘I saw that,’ said Sophia, smiling. After a few moments, the smile vanished and she said, ‘You know this case is going to attract a lot of attention? The death was in the papers three years ago – demonstrations on the streets and outside the station where it happened, allegations of police brutality. Even more news last year when the CPS decided not to prosecute.’
‘We shouldn’t let those sorts of pressures affect our work. The coroner wants us to dig deep before the inquest and make sure we do a fair job for the family and for the police. Let me go through the file and work out a plan of action.’
He opened the case file. It seemed very thin. The usual biographical details. Ben Holdsworth was thirty-six years old when he was detained, born in Middleton but resident in Cheetham Hill. Two previous arrests, one for possession of a small amount of cannabis, the other for driving without a functioning brake light. Separated from his wife, Rosie Holdsworth, two kids, Danny and Audrey. He turned the page expecting to see more but it was blank.
‘Is that all?’ he said out loud.
‘What?’ asked Sophia.
‘Nothing, just talking to myself.’
‘The first sign of madness, I’ve been told.’
‘Nah, the first sign of madness is when you hear an answer.’
He took his notepad out from his jacket pocket and wrote HOLDSWORTH CASE in block capitals followed by the date.
Beneath he scrawled:
Victim’s bio? More details?
Followed by:
Old arrest logs? Where? Check with Chrissy.
Chrissy was the civilian researcher he often worked with at Police HQ. She would have access to the Police National Computer and Crime Database.
He turned over the page and saw a photocopy of the custody file for Ben Holdsworth signed by Tony Saunders.
CUSTODY REPORT
Name of Detainee: Ben Holdsworth
D.O.B.: 12/01/1982
Race/Sex: IC1 MALE
Place of Birth: MANCHESTER
Address: NFA
Date/Time of Arrest: February 21, 2018. 03.10
Arrest Number: 3659/19
Also Known As (Alias Names): NA
Scars, Marks, Tattoos: NONE
Nearest Relative Name: MOTHER: MAUREEN HOLDSWORTH
Hgt Wgt: 181 cm, 82 kilos.
Occupation: NOT GIVEN
Hair Eye OLN and State: GOOD
Skin Tone/Consumed Drug/Alcohol: GOOD. NONE CONSUMED.
Calls Made: TWO. DETAILS IN PHONE LOG.
Custody Rights: EXPLAINED AND UNDERSTOOD.
Arresting Officer Name/ID Number: PC CHRIS CARTER 4349
Place Confined: REDBURY STATION
Narrative: Mr Holdsworth was arrested following a local tip-off he was dealing drugs from his car. PC Carter found the drugs on the front seat of a Mini Cooper S driven by Mr Holdsworth. The said drugs have been bagged as evidence and are held at 7689/19/342. Mr Holdsworth was arrested and brought to the station after being advised of his rights. I am certain his arrest was in accordance with the standards set by the College of Policing and have detained Mr Holdsworth pending further investigation.
Charges: 1994 DRUG TRAFFICKING ACT, INTENT TO SUPPLY. HELD PENDING FURTHER INVESTIGATIONS.
Detention Confirmed: 03.40
Date/Time Released:
Arresting Officer Signature/ID #: CHRIS CARTER PC 4349
Date/Time Submitted: 03.45
Custody Supervisor Signature: SGT TONY SAUNDERS 3975 03.45 21/02/2018
Arrestee Signature: REFUSED
Case Status:
Further Inv. Inactive
Case Disposition:
Notes:
1. ORDERED STRIP SEARCH OF DEFENDANT BY CUSTODY OFFICERS, RODGERS AND HARVEY. NO DRUGS FOUND.
2. PLACED IN CELL 3 @ 03.50.
3. CELLS 3 AND 4 CCTV CEASED OPERATION @ 04.35. ORDERED HALF HOURLY MONITORING.
4. DETAINEE SEEN ON FLOOR OF CELL BY CUSTODY OFFICER HARVEY. UNRESPONSIVE. 06.30. ATTEMPTED CPR. STILL UNRESPONSIVE.
5. DUTY DOCTOR CALLED 06.35.
6. AMBULANCE ARRIVES 06.43. DETAINEE TAKEN TO SALFORD GENERAL ACCOMPANIED BY HARVEY.
7. PAUSED CLOCK ON DETAINEE’S DETENTION TIME PENDING RETURN FROM HOSPITAL.
Ridpath read through the file twice, making sure he understood it. To him, everything looked kosher. In many ways, Tony Saunders had been too accommodating with Holdsworth. If he were in charge, he wouldn’t have allowed him to make a second call, but Saunders had. Doing a strip search in a drugs case was also standard operating procedure.
He turned the page and began reading the witness statements from Saunders, the two custody officers, and the arresting officers.
Again, everything looked straightforward and all the detention procedures had been followed. The description from Tony Saunders matched that of the two custody officers.
At 06.30, I was called by Custody Officer HARVEY to an incident occurring in Custody Suite 3. I went immediately there and found the deceased stretched out on the floor with the custody officer standing beside him. I immediately began to give CPR in the correct way and ordered Custody Officer HARVEY to get the duty medical officer who was then examining the teenagers who had been arrested earlier for joyriding.
The medical officer, Dr BOURKE, arrived at 06.35. After applying CPR again, the detainee remained unresponsive. Dr BOURKE called for an ambulance using his mobile phone. The ambulance and emergency responders arrived eight minutes later at 06.43.
Mr Holdsworth was placed on a gurney and removed from the station at 06.50. I entered a log of the event into the Police Station Management System and paused the timing on his custody records.
The copper in Ridpath was impressed. Saunders had paused the clock, meaning if Ben Holdsworth had been returned to the station, the police would still have twenty-four hours minus the time he had already spent at the nick to investigate his case. However, it was a little cold-hearted given he had been giving CPR to the man just twenty minutes earlier.
Ridpath continued reading.
I received a phone call from the victim’s mother at 07.20 and told her he had been taken to Salford General Hospital. I was unaware of his condition before my shift ended.
Interesting the mother had called. Had Holdsworth made one of his calls to her? Otherwise how did she know her son had been detained?
The next page was a brief note from the hospital. According to their reports, Holdsworth had arrived in A&E at 07.04, but despite their best efforts, they were unable to save his life. He was pronounced dead at 07.36. His body was transferred to the mortuary and a post-mortem was performed at 13.10 the same day.
That was quick. Ridpath checked the name of the pathologist.
Statement of Dr Harold Lardner, BSc, MB, BS, MRC Path.
Age of Witness: 54
Occupation: Greater Manchester Police Pathologist
Address: Forensic Pathology Services, Oxford Road, Manchester.
Ridpath closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged.
Why did it have to be him?
Chapter Five
He was sure they were waiting in the car outside his house.
Two of them, big blokes who looked like they had to share a brain cell in order to function.
He’d seen them when he came home from work this morning. It had been a long hard night shift at the slaughterhouse, getting the carcasses ready for Christmas. Pigs, chickens, turkeys all had to be killed, hung, dressed and packed. He’d worked a couple of hours overtime too, time to get saving if he wanted to pack the job in and go to Thailand in the new year.
God, he hated this time of year. For everybody else it meant starting to plan the Christmas Day feast. For him, it meant working long hours as the days grew shorter. Sometimes he didn’t even see daylight, going to work when it was dark at seven in the evening and getting home while it was still dark and sleeping through the daylight hours.
He’d started working there over three years before when he’d moved into the area. It was a job nobody else wanted, and nobody cared who you were or where you came from. Which suited him perfectly.
He’d arrived home at nine that morning, after taking the bus from work, getting off at his usual stop and walking back to the cottage.
That was what the grasping estate agent had called his rented two up, two down back-to-back without a hint of irony and even less truthfulness. But he needed a place to live far from his usual stomping grounds and this was available right away. It was right next to the only cotton mill still operating in England. It always amused him that, in a region built on cotton, he could still hear the sound of yarns being spun.
He’d come home that morning, walked past the mill, turning onto his street. As usual, the light at the corner was out of action, but parked beneath it was a black SUV with its lights off and two large, dark shapes sitting in the front seats.
He hurried across the road, deliberately walking past his house without going in.
What was he going to do?
Had they finally found him? Finally worked out where he had gone? But they’d had an agreement. As long as he disappeared they would leave him alone.
All his stuff was in the house. His passport, clothes, laptop, all the things he needed to get away again.
He’d planned for this moment, knew it was going to happen one day, just not when. Now, he’d been caught short.
He turned right at the end of the road, casually glancing back to the SUV. The men were still sitting in the front. Had they noticed him walking past them? Were they waiting for the lights in the house to go on before knocking on the door? Or had they not recognised him with his new shaven head?
What was he going to do?
The ginnel leading to the rear of his house was on his right. Or he just could run away, take a shortcut through the park, past the crematorium and back into Manchester.
He told himself not to panic. Perhaps they weren’t after him at all. Perhaps they were waiting for someone else.
Besides, how could they have found him? He had changed his name, got a new passport and driving licence, left his old life and his friends behind.
He thought for a moment. Had Elaine dobbed him in?
A week ago, shopping in Tesco, he’d bumped into her with her three snot-nosed kids.
‘Fancy meeting you here. You’re living close by, are you?’
He’d been surprised seeing her and had mumbled some inaudible reply.
‘You’re going to have to speak up. When you have kids they make you a little deaf, my mum says. She should know, she had six of us.’ A nervous laugh.
‘I said I live nearby.’
‘Oh, great, we can be neighbours then. I married Terry. Remember him from school? Got four kids now, one’s with my mum. What are you doing?’
‘This and that.’
‘And a bit of the other, I’m sure. You were always a bit of a flash one.’ She’d nudged him in the ribs playfully. ‘How’s your mum? I used to like your mum when we was courting. Proper lady, she was.’
‘She died four years ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear it. God rest her soul.’
‘Anyway, I’ve got to be off,’ he’d said, desperate to get away.
She’d paused for a moment before saying, ‘I missed you, you know. You were my first real boyfriend.’
Another long pause as she waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she carried on. ‘Terry’s a lorry driver, he’s away a lot. We should go for a drink one night; Mum’ll look after the kids. Be like old times…’
He’d mumbled another non-committal answer and then escaped.
Had she mentioned meeting him to somebody, and that’s why two thugs were sitting in a car outside his house? Or was he over-reacting, and they were waiting for somebody else?
He couldn’t take the chance.
He nipped down the ginnel and climbed over the wall behind his house. There was a spare key hidden on the ledge above the rear door. He reached up for it, praying it was still there, feeling for it with his fingertips.
He touched the rough metal outline of the key, taking it down and slowly opening the door. He stood in the entrance for a second, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness inside.
Was somebody waiting for him in the dark?
He listened carefully for the sound of breathing or the rustle of cloth against the fabric of a seat. His whole body was tense, holding his breath, ready to run at the slightest sound.
Nothing.
He stepped inside, stopped and listened again, before slowly closing the door.
He finally breathed out, relaxing for a second.
‘Long time, no see, mate,’ came a voice from the shadows.
Chapter Six
Ridpath stared at the first page of the post-mortem report.
Lardner’s scrawled signature was at the bottom. A name from the past now staring at him from the pages of the present.
Ridpath had arrested the pathologist in his first case working for the coroner. The man was a serial predator, the Beast of Manchester, killing women brutally and without mercy. For years, he had hidden in plain sight, investigating his own crimes and covering them up, driven by a compulsion to cause pain. He was now locked up safely and securely in Ashworth high-security psychiatric hospital near Liverpool.
After their last meeting, Ridpath had hoped he wouldn’t have to see him again. But here he was again, turning up like a bad smell from an old midden.
Ridpath scanned the report quickly, jumping to the most important section at the end. Lardner’s voice spoke to him in every line, the ironic, slightly mocking tone present even in official documents.
CONCLUSIONS
This man died from a subdural haematoma to the brain, caused by striking his skull on the wall of the cell. CCTV evidence shows him falling and hitting his head. (Attached stills from CCTV in Appendix 3.) This injury would not have been obvious to an untrained observer, but should have led to increasingly erratic behaviour such as an inability to stand, shaking of the head, lack of coordination of the motor functions and dizziness.
The discovery of the man on the floor of the cell is not surprising. The subdural haematoma would eventually lead to his inability to maintain his normal motor and perceptual functions and cause a final collapse.
