When the Night Ends, page 6
He scanned the room, checking on all the detectives before stopping at Harry.
‘Well, if it isn’t Detective Inspector Makepeace. Long time no see, Harry. How was sunny Yorkshire?’
‘It’s still there, gaffer.’
‘Have we closed the case yet? And if not, why not?’
Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Not yet. We’ve been watching the head of the child sex ring for the last couple of weeks, but he hasn’t put a foot wrong. Almost as if he knows we’re on to him.’
‘Why don’t you pull him in anyway? I thought you had enough to put him away for a good ten stretch.’
‘The NCA want it all tied up neatly with a bow before they take it to the CPS.’
Turnbull nodded his bald head slowly. Ridpath could see the vein in his temple throbbing.
‘I’ll say this once and once only, people.’ His bottom lip came up to cover the top one and the muscles on his jawline clenched. ‘I want results. No more pussy-footing about, waiting and watching and running up overtime so you lot can enjoy two weeks in Ibiza with the missus next summer.’ He slammed his fist down on the table. ‘Results. Got it.’
He scanned the room, making sure every detective nodded his agreement.
‘But, gaffer…’
‘No buts, Harry. You put pressure on whoever is in charge of the NCA this week to get his finger out of his arse and make an arrest. Jesus, this was a done deal a month ago.’
‘It’s a woman, boss. Detective Chief Inspector Watkins.’
‘Well, tell her to get her finger out of her arse. I want a result, Harry, and I want it yesterday. Understood?’
‘Yes, gaffer.’
‘Alan, how are you getting on with the stabbing in Bolton?’
‘The guy was charged yesterday. CPS have agreed he has a case to answer. We should have the papers to them by the end of the week.’
‘Done and dusted?’
‘Done and dusted.’
Turnbull clapped his hands. ‘Well done, Alan. Listen, people, be more like Alan. Offence committed on Monday. Perp arrested and charged on Tuesday. Papers to CPS by Friday. A case cleared and off the books by Saturday. Efficient use of resources and time and one more idiot off the streets. Well done, Alan.’
The rest of the meeting continued on in the same vein, Turnbull alternatively cajoling, frightening, encouraging and demeaning but with one underlying message.
All that mattered was results.
‘Right, we’re done.’ He glanced across the detectives who began to stand up. ‘But… we’ve forgotten our little coroner’s officer, Detective Inspector Ridpath. What do you have for us?’
Ridpath pulled out his notepad and checked the figures given to him by Sophia before he left. ‘It’s pretty quiet at the moment. Just a hundred and twenty-seven deaths last week and only three from Covid. We’ve noticed an increasing occurrence of deaths in the home as GPs are performing Zoom consultations rather than seeing patients in person. Not their fault, though, as it was a government directive. The coroner has raised a number of Section 28s with the health authorities.’
‘Please explain to us mere mortals what a Section 28 is, Ridpath?’
‘It’s a notice of concern. If a coroner raises one, local health authorities have to respond in writing to her and to the chief coroner. It’s to prevent similar deaths from occurring.’
‘Do Section 28s also apply to the police force?’
Ridpath’s eyes narrowed. He knew where Turnbull was going with this. Was that why he felt like persona non grata at this meeting?
‘They do, if the police have made an error in procedure.’
‘Are you investigating any cases for the coroner at the moment involving us?’
There was a smirk on Turnbull’s face as he asked the question.
Ridpath could see no way of answering this except with brutal honesty. If all else fails, tell the truth. ‘There is an inquest into the death in custody of Ben Holdsworth in Redbury station coming soon.’
‘Wasn’t Tony Saunders the custody sergeant?’ This was Alan Butcher asking.
Ridpath nodded.
‘He’s good police, Tony. I was trained by him.’
‘And so was I.’ Another copper jumped in. Ridpath didn’t know who he was. There were so many new people brought in by Turnbull, he had difficulty keeping track.
‘The coroner has a statutory duty to hold an inquest when there is a death in custody.’ Ridpath could hear the weakness in his voice.
‘But I thought Tony had already been cleared by Professional Standards and the IOPC; why are you investigating again? He’s been on office duties for the last couple of years. A good copper like him should be out working, not stuck filling in forms for the bloody computers.’
There was a murmur of agreement in the room.
‘As I said, the coroner has a statutory duty to investigate all deaths in custody.’
Turnbull held his hands up. ‘Enough, gentlemen, I’m sure Ridpath is just doing his job…’ A pause for three seconds, ‘…investigating good coppers for the coroner. As the chief said last month, our job is to solve crime and arrest criminals. I want to see those results and see them quickly. Get it? Now get out and get them.’
The meeting was dismissed. Ridpath closed his notepad and put it back in the inside pocket of his jacket. He couldn’t help but notice the disdainful glances of the other detectives as they left the room. Chrissy Wright and Emily Parkinson still hadn’t spoken to him.
‘Chrissy, have you got a second?’
The civilian researcher looked sheepish for a moment, glancing left and right, before finally walking over to him.
‘Can you run something through the PNC for me? I’m looking for the files on the arrests of this man, Ben Holdsworth.’
Chrissy took the paper from him. ‘Sure, Ridpath, I’ll do it now.’
A hand came in and took the paper from her. ‘No, you won’t. You’re to give no help to this man when he’s investigating other coppers, is that clear, Wright?
The imposing figure of Turnbull loomed over her. He screwed up the paper and threw it in the bin.
‘I’m still an officer in MIT, Turnbull. I’ve asked Chrissy to check some files for me.’
‘It’s Detective Chief Inspector Turnbull to you, Ridpath. And I decide how the resources in my department are being used, is that clear?’
Ridpath stood up. ‘I’ll do it myself then.’
‘All the computers are being used at the moment. Important MIT business,’ Turnbull said with a smirk. ‘And I’m sure there is a conflict of interest with you investigating another copper. Chief Inspector Boyle at Professional Standards will want to take a look at what you’re doing.’
Ridpath exhaled. ‘As I said, it’s part of the statutory duty of a coroner to investigate all deaths in custody. It’s got nothing to do with Professional Standards.’
‘If I remember correctly, wasn’t a coroner’s officer investigated in Cheshire for writing a report on my old force?’
‘It was her duty to make people aware of a possible connection in deaths amongst old people the police may have missed.’
‘But her duty to whom, Ridpath? The coroner or the police? Where did her loyalty lie?’
‘Her loyalty was to the truth, Chief Inspector Turnbull. It’s always to the truth.’
‘My loyalty is to the people who pay my salary. Who are you employed by, Ridpath?’
‘You know the answer.’
‘You’re paid by MIT, not the coroner. Until you remember investigating other coppers is not your duty, then you’re not welcome here.’
‘You can’t do that, Turnbull.’
Another little smile. ‘I just did.’ He turned to look through the open door of the meeting room. ‘Alan,’ he shouted. ‘Come here and escort Ridpath out of this office. He’s not welcome any more.’
‘With pleasure, boss.’
Chapter Twelve
On his way out, Ridpath spotted Emily Parkinson perched over a standing ashtray, exhaling a long stream of blue smoke into the air.
‘You really have pissed them off this time.’
‘You couldn’t even look at me.’
‘What do you expect? You know how it is. I have to work with these bastards every day of my life.’ She glanced towards the main building. ‘If Turnbull caught me talking to you now, I’d be out of MIT as quickly as Ronaldo scores goals. I’d probably end up in some dreary basement somewhere updating iOPS for the rest of my life.’
Ridpath stood downwind of Emily, not so passively inhaling her smoke as she expelled it from her lungs. He had promised Eve he would stop smoking. So far, he had kept to his promise, but a whiff of second-hand smoke didn’t count, at least in his eyes.
‘When is Claire Trent due back?’
Emily shrugged her shoulders. ‘Who knows? Officially she’s on a course. Unofficially, the scuttlebutt is she’s going for one of the new chief super posts in a division. And you know what that means…’
‘Turnbull will probably take over MIT.’
‘Right first time.’ She paused for a second, taking another long drag from her cigarette and then lighting a new one with the fag end of the old. ‘One day, I’ll give these up, but at the moment they are the only things keeping me going.’
‘That good, huh?’
‘Worse. Turnbull’s making my life a nightmare. Nothing I can officially complain about, but it’s the usual constant low-level hostility.’ A deep breath. ‘I’ve had enough, Ridpath; it’s time to put in for a transfer.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘I don’t know. Anywhere out of MIT. And now it looks like the divisions are becoming more important.’
Ridpath smiled. ‘Our new task. Stop crime. Arrest criminals.’
‘Yeah, why did we ever move away from the basics? What else is a police force for?’
‘Providing a safe refuge for terminally incompetent managers?’
‘That’s too cynical even for me.’ Emily held up her pack of Embassy. ‘You still not smoking?’
‘The last one was four months, three days and ten hours ago.’
‘Like you’re not keeping count.’
‘One day at a time.’ He felt his hand drift towards the packet.
She quickly put it back in her pocket. ‘Sorry for even tempting you.’ She changed the subject. ‘How are you going with the death in custody?’
‘Just started. The inquest is next week so I’m a bit pushed for time. I have to interview witnesses and work up a timeline for the coroner.’
‘You’re not investigating Tony Saunders?’
‘Not directly. Our job is to work out why and how Ben Holdsworth died, and to see if anything can be done to prevent such deaths happening again. It’s not to apportion blame.’
‘It’s not how they see it.’ She stabbed her cigarette in the direction of the HQ building. ‘They think you’re out to get him.’
‘What do you think, Emily?’
She paused and put the cigarette in her mouth, inhaling and then exhaling slowly. ‘I was trained by Tony Saunders. He was my first sergeant at Cheadle Hulme. He’s a good copper, Ridpath. A copper’s copper.’
‘Like I said, the coroner just wants to find out what happened and why. Nothing more, nothing less.’
‘What are your next steps?’
‘Go to the nick, check out the scene, talk to the coppers involved, build a timeline.’
‘You’re going to see Tony Saunders?’
‘Of course.’
She grimaced, trying to hide her face, whispering, ‘Well, you won’t have long to wait. He’s walking towards us now.’
Chapter Thirteen
He didn’t know how long he’d been running.
His legs hurt. His chest was heaving. A stitch stabbed him in the side.
He glanced backwards.
Nobody following him.
He stopped running but carried on walking as fast as he could. Don’t stop now.
Where was he going to go? Where was he going to stay?
He couldn’t go back to Redbury; they’d get him in ten minutes. The rental house in Dukinfield was a no-go too, not any more, not with Mr Delaney’s body lying on the kitchen floor.
He smiled to himself. It was good feeling the kettle strike the man’s head, though. The satisfying crunch of metal on bone. And then watching him topple off the chair and collapse on the floor was priceless.
He shouldn’t have done it, just as he shouldn’t have beaten up the man in the pub, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself.
Now he was in trouble though. Big trouble.
Where to go?
He wracked his brain for an answer.
Find a hotel. Nothing fancy, just some place where he could stay for a couple of days and nobody could find him.
But Delaney knew his new name; wouldn’t they be able to track him?
Not if he stayed out of sight. And it would only be for a few days, less than a week. Afterwards, he could head down south and hide himself in the Smoke. He’d have to bring forward his trip to Thailand, though – England wasn’t safe any more. Eventually somebody would recognise him and Delaney would be on to him in a flash.
He shuddered to think what would happen to him if he were caught.
What was it Delaney had said? Somebody wanted him dead? But why? He’d done as he was asked, left the area and not gone back, kept his nose clean and stayed out of trouble. He’d never even had a visit from the law.
So who wanted him dead? And why?
A tram station up on the left. He’d get on and go into town, find a cheap hotel and hide out there.
They wouldn’t be able to find him if he didn’t go out.
Mr Delaney was not a man anybody crossed lightly in Manchester. And he had just hit him with a heavy kettle full of boiling water.
He smiled to himself again. He shouldn’t have done it, but it felt so bloody good. Three years of hell put into one swing of a hot kettle.
He’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Sod Delaney.
Sod his thugs.
He was getting out of this horrible city and going to Thailand for some sun, sea and sand.
Sod ’em all.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Hiya, Emily, still smoking the coffin nails? Bad for your health.’ Sergeant Tony Saunders stood close, his bulk imposing itself on the conversation.
‘Hi, Tony, smoking these is better than breathing in Manchester’s air. At least these have a filter. How are you?’
Saunders ignored the question, squaring his body and demanding, ‘Are you Ridpath?’
‘It’s Detective Inspector Ridpath, Sergeant. You might want to show some respect, if not for me at least for the rank.’
‘Respect? For a copper investigating other coppers? Give me a break. As for you, Emily, I’m surprised you’re talking to a ponce like this.’
‘I’ve worked with Ridpath before, Tony, he’s a good copper.’
Saunders snorted. ‘And he’s investigating me?’
‘All deaths in custody have to be investigated, Sergeant Saunders.’
‘So far I’ve been questioned by Professional Standards, the College of Policing, a whole team of investigators from the IOPC and the bloody CPS. All have cleared me of any wrongdoing. I’ve been on desk duties for over three years, sitting in some basement with nothing but a bloody computer for company. And now you come along too?’
‘It’s my job.’
‘Just what the police needs, another jobsworth,’ Saunders sneered.
‘The inquest is next week, Sergeant. I don’t think we should be talking like this. I need to send you a notice for a formal interview, and you may want to have your union rep or solicitor attend.’
‘Bugger off, I don’t have to talk to you.’
‘I’m afraid you do.’
‘You’re just a coroner’s officer.’
‘Who can subpoena you to testify at the inquest and arrest you if you fail to turn up. Do you understand?’ Ridpath softened his tone. ‘Let’s not make this confrontational, Tony; the coroner just wants to discover the truth.’
‘Don’t we all. But I’ve had enough. I think you’re going to need a subpoena to talk to me.’
With those parting words, he strode away, up the steps and back through the main doors of Police HQ.
For a moment both Ridpath and Emily Parkinson stood there watching the man vanish into the depths of the building.
Finally, Ridpath spoke ironically. ‘Nice to meet you too, Tony.’
‘I think he’s had enough. Remember when the demonstrations happened outside Redbury nick, he was the one who had to carry the can. How would you feel if you’d spent the last few years on restricted duties?’
‘I went through it all, remember? Look, I understand how he’s feeling, but it doesn’t change the coroner’s statutory duty. There has to be an inquest, I have to investigate beforehand and produce a report for her. In the end, though, a jury will decide the verdict, as it always does.’
‘It’s just not good optics.’
‘Bugger the optics, Emily. It’s my job. I’m here to represent the family and the police. What if there was a procedural error leading to more deaths?’
‘Have you seen any evidence Tony Saunders did something wrong?’
Ridpath shook his head. ‘Not yet. He seems to have followed the rule book to the letter.’
‘See, I told you he was a good copper.’
‘But I still need to look into it. The inquest is going to happen, like it or not. It has to happen by law.’
Emily stabbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. ‘I have to get back, Ridpath. You be careful, you hear? This one could bite your arse. Turnbull is whispering behind your back.’
‘He doesn’t worry me.’
‘He should, Ridpath, he should.’
Chapter Fifteen
After the talk with Emily, Ridpath returned to his car and rang Sophia. ‘How’s things?’
‘All quiet on the Stockfield front. Mrs Challinor has left for a council meeting; she won’t be coming back. Everything else is running smoothly. John is going over the post-mortem report as we speak. He’ll get back to you as soon as he can.’
