Lying Ways, page 17
The officers looked at the footage of a large man wearing a brown jacket and jeans, making his purchase.
‘Have we a trace for the serial number of the Snickers bar?’ Kelly asked.
Kate nodded. ‘Yes, it matches the batch sent to this Co-op three weeks ago, and the wrapper found at the scene is from that box.’
‘Fantastic. Do we know who he is?’ Kelly asked. Kate paused the footage and tried to get a good still of the man. She rewound it and fast-forwarded it, settling on a frame where the man’s face could be made out by its shape, though not in a great amount of detail.
‘Was the server interviewed?’ Kelly asked.
‘Yes. She was working the late shift. There weren’t many customers that time of night and she remembers a few men coming in, but not this particular one, and she couldn’t identify him,’ Kate said.
‘Get this released to the press,’ Kelly said, pointing to the photo. It wasn’t great, but it was a start. Whoever ate that Snickers bar had left the wrapper at a murder scene.
Rob put up his hand and all eyes settled on him.
‘Rob?’
‘Boss, I was reading Jack Bell’s emails on his account set up for him by the parole service. There aren’t very many, but most of them are between him and Jeanie Clark. I’m no expert, but I’d say they were closer than she’s letting on,’ he said.
‘Agreed. Go on.’
‘One of them mentions how he’s changed and he’s working on providing her with the life she deserves. He talks of making a sizeable amount of money, soon. And that was an email sent on the night he was released.’
‘So he had something in the pipeline, and it might be a motive. Thanks, Rob. Dan?’ Kelly asked.
Dan stood up and spoke confidently. Emma gazed at him in admiration and nodded when he made his points.
‘Me and Emma have been working on the signet ring. The insignia is military,’ he said. Kelly raised an eyebrow, recalling something that Ted had said to her.
‘It’s the bugle and regimental motto of the Light Infantry. “Cede Nullis” means yield to none. The Light Infantry ceased to exist in 2007 and was merged into the Rifles, so we’re looking at someone serving before that date,’ Dan explained.
‘And somebody who saw some action,’ Kelly said. ‘I don’t think an infantry soldier would be up to no good if he’d served his time in the rear echelons handing out ammo,’ she added. ‘Do you know where the Light Infantry served regularly?’ she asked.
‘Between 2000 and 2007 they served in Bosnia, Northern Ireland, Sierra Leone and Iraq. After they became the Rifles, they were sent mainly to Afghanistan,’ Dan said.
Kelly ran her hand through her hair, fiddling with the ends, and closed her eyes. She’d talk to Johnny about it tonight. There might be some infamous fuck-ups, known to serving soldiers, where things had got nasty in the field. It was that type of thing that could unhinge an ex-soldier. Tom Gorman might be worth talking to as well.
‘We’ve also been working on the winch strap. It’s a standard design, heavy duty, used in hoists, generally for getting people in and out of the bath in care homes. You can order them off the internet, but that’s its main use. The label had been cut off but we’re making enquiries as to when this specific design and colour, as well as its properties of strength and efficiency, started to be manufactured, and where,’ Dan finished.
‘Brilliant, thanks, Dan.’ Kelly said. It was her turn. ‘I spent the day at HMP Highton, as you know, with DI Lockwood. We paid a visit to Seascale afterwards and spoke to an ice cream vendor who positively identified Jack Bell hanging around there on Saturday, waiting to meet someone who never turned up.’
She allowed the new information to sink in. It was significant because it linked their victims further.
‘Rob, I want you to take a closer look at the finances of an inmate at HMP Highton. Rickie Burton seems to rule the roost, and it was intimated to me by another inmate that both Jack and Dean were manipulated by Burton into becoming some kind of foot soldiers. I want to know how he survives in there. To live a comfortable life inside, you need means.’
‘I’ll request a warrant to search his financial records at the prison. He must have direct debits and standing orders, and he must shop online from inside prison,’ Rob said.
‘That’s what I’m thinking. Concentrate on payments to individuals as well,’ Kelly said. ‘If you’re quick, you might catch the magistrates’ office, so do you want to do that now?’ Rob nodded and left the room.
‘Moving on to the care home angle. We need to compile a list of care homes in the county. Emma? Can I give that to you?’
Emma nodded happily. ‘Yes, guv. We’ve had it confirmed that the biggest distributer of care home equipment in Cumbria is Covey Care, a company based in Kendal.’
‘Good job, keep on it,’ Kelly said. ‘Craig Lockwood is concentrating on anyone who did time with our victims in the last decade. In the case of Dean Kirby, there will be a lot of names. I’m hoping it will lead us to whoever helped transport our victims to the sites of their deaths. This might give us a clearer picture of what Dean and Jack were up to when they left prison.’
‘Mules on the outside?’ Dan suggested. Dan had served the Greater Glasgow division for Police Scotland for many years, and he’d seen his fair share of underworld criminality. He knew a thing or two about how gangs could control business affairs from behind prison walls. He’d even told them stories of gang members committing severe crimes to get incarcerated, thereby gaining access to traitors inside to settle scores.
‘That’s exactly what I’m thinking,’ Kelly said. ‘Have we had the reports for the flat searches yet?’ she asked. Emma, who was sat in front of a police computer screen, beat them to it.
‘Guv, they’ve both been sent across. They look pretty wordy,’ she said, scrolling through the emails.
‘Great, can you prepare a precis for me in the next half an hour?’ Kelly asked.
‘Of course, guv,’ Emma said.
‘Dan, can I bend your ear?’ Kelly said. He nodded. ‘Thank you everybody, wrap things up and get some well-deserved rest at home, and I’ll see you all at nine thirty tomorrow morning,’ she said. The officers filed away, back to their desks, chatting and comparing notes. When it was quiet, Kelly turned to Dan.
‘This is your patch, Dan. What’s your experience of convicts using mules on the outside?’ she asked.
‘It’s rife,’ he said. ‘Money gets transferred by relations on the outside, who call their brothers, nephews and grandsons on the inside to confirm transactions. It runs smoother than if they were living outside the wall because they have the protection of the state – no one can get to them.’
‘How ironic. But the relatives can be got at,’ she pointed out.
‘True, but why would you take out a granny and start a war? Money is going to shift around anyway, it’s the types of business and the extent of turf control that is disputed, not who works for them, necessarily.’
‘So we need to find out what Rickie Burton controls on the outside, and take a long look at his family,’ she said.
‘And then find out who his enemies are,’ he said.
Chapter 29
By the time Kelly climbed into bed next to Johnny, it was gone midnight. It had been her turn to give Lizzie her eleven o’clock bottle. Feeding her daughter calmed Kelly and emptied her head. The biggest change to Kelly and Johnny’s daily pattern was that they couldn’t discuss issues as they arose; they had to wait. Bedtime seemed to be the most convenient moment to raise questions. Kelly was reluctant to ask Johnny about his time in the military so late at night, but it was her only opportunity.
‘When should we invite Millie round?’ she asked.
‘The weekend?’ he replied. He yawned but pulled her body towards him and held her. He smelled her hair. ‘I missed you,’ he said.
‘It’s my first big case since Lizzie, isn’t it?’
He nodded and snuggled into her. His hold was firm. His hands travelled down her body but her mind wandered.
‘How much do you think we should offer her?’ she asked.
Johnny stopped his caresses and put his head into his pillow. ‘Who?’ he asked.
‘Millie?’ she said.
‘Ah. Erm, I suppose we need to decide what hours she works first,’ he said. He leant back and put his hands behind his head.
‘What were you thinking?’ she asked.
‘I wasn’t. I was thinking about this,’ he said, putting his hand on her waist and slowly moving it towards her breast. She smiled and turned towards him. They kissed and she felt him relax against her. She smelled him and realised that she’d missed the mix of warm skin and clean scent after he’d showered before bed.
‘What year were you in Iraq?’ she asked.
His hands stopped moving again and he gave up. ‘Which time?’ he asked. He turned his light off and settled down to sleep.
‘Any – what were the dates? Did you serve with the Light Infantry?’ she asked. He sighed.
‘What’s this about?’ he asked, turning towards her once more.
‘Sorry. It’s work. I might have a suspect who is ex-military. He might have worn a signet ring with the Light Infantry insignia and motto,’ she said.
‘Cede Nullis,’ he said. She looked at him.
‘You know it?’
‘Of course. Yield to none. They weren’t impressed when they were consumed by the Rifles. Three hundred years of history down the drain. The old-timers still call themselves LI, and they’re sensitive about which regiment.’
‘How many were there?’ she asked. He rubbed his eyes and yawned again.
‘Originally four, then cut to three. The originals were the Duke of Cornwall, Durham, Highland, Green Jackets, King’s Own Yorkshire, Devon and Dorset, there are quite a few. It was in the sixties that they became first, second and third battalion. They all became the Rifles in 2007. Think Sean Bean in Sharpe and you have your Light Infantryman. Why?’
‘I need to find a needle in a haystack,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d start with you. Can you remember any incidents in Iraq involving the Light Infantry, which weren’t reported in the press, but that were quite messy – you know, damaging for the troops who witnessed them?’ she asked.
‘Take your pick. It was all messy. It was street fighting, close-quarter building clearance, IEDs under civilian roads, friendly fire, you name it. There were plenty of fuck-ups,’ he said. Kelly noticed his body language change and she knew she’d hit a raw nerve.
‘You don’t have to,’ she said. He ran his hands through his hair and propped himself up on his pillow.
‘It’s not me,’ he said. ‘I’m fine. It’s a long time ago. It’s just the lads we lost in one way or another. Not necessarily the dead, but the quadruple amputees, the ones who never got over the noise, the ones who couldn’t forget the nightmares,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘They’re the ones I want to know about.’ She sat up and faced him. ‘I think I’m looking for somebody who was severely damaged. If they owned this ring then they’ll be proud of it and upset it’s gone, right? I know that the victims weren’t military, but whoever wore the ring might have been.’
‘Or they could be a fantasist, having bought it at a bric-a-brac store, pretending they’re tough,’ he said. He lay down again, and sighed. Kelly felt awkward.
‘You’re right, it could be nothing.’
She waited.
‘I was there twice. The second time was worse. The first time was shortly after the invasion, in 2003, and things were positive. Everybody seemed to want it to work. Saddam was history, the locals were onside, and there was a kind of buoyancy. By the following year, things had already taken a downturn. Things went to rat-shit quickly. It was more hostile and unpredictable. I heard several reports of soldiers going rogue. It wasn’t their fault; it was just that they’d been pushed to their limits. There were a few kidnappings and stories of torture-related incidents that didn’t reach the press.’
‘Any specifics?’ she pushed him.
He sighed and closed his eyes. ‘I tell you what, I’ll sleep on it and think about it more clearly in the morning. I’m tired. I’ll talk to Tom as well, he saw some pretty serious shit,’ he said. He tuned over.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. He remained silent and she watched his back move gently up and down. She doubted he was asleep. She felt as though she’d crossed a line and wondered if her work was welcome in their home any more. Johnny always showed enthusiasm for her investigations and had helped clarify many of her thoughts when she’d been stuck, but now she sensed a shift in his patience. Should she be more concerned about spending time with her own family, rather than working out why somebody else’s loved one had perished? But wasn’t that hypocritical of him? Hadn’t he once prioritised the freedom of strangers over his own daughter, Josie? Wasn’t he still prioritising the mental health of his clients over his own?
But there was something else. He seemed defensive. He’d showed a kind of irritation that she was suggesting that an ex-colleague could be responsible for awful crimes, which, to her, was an anomaly. Didn’t he come into contact with screwed-up heads all the time with his PTSD work? Wasn’t that the whole point? Maybe he was defensive because he was protective of them. Could it be that his allegiance to those spoiled by war was preventing him from admitting that some of them were so damaged that they could commit horrible crimes? She pushed the thought away.
Surely not.
She turned off her light and settled down in bed, but she couldn’t find peace. Her thoughts kept going to the chances of finding a ruined soldier somewhere who owned that ring and was missing it keenly, because it represented so much of what had happened to him. She decided to contact the Ministry of Defence tomorrow and ask them directly about soldiers who’d presented with PTSD after active service. It was somewhere to start, and took the pressure of having to ask Johnny every five minutes. She hoped that she hadn’t opened some old wound for him, because it wasn’t like him to shy away from handing over information. But then again, it was late, and they had a two-month-old baby.
Chapter 30
Kelly took her coffee into the briefing room, where there was a palpable buzz around it being Friday, despite there being an ongoing serious case to crack. The forensic reports were in on the two flats searched yesterday. The first was the flat Jack Bell was staying in, which was a parole halfway house in Workington regularly used by ex-cons. The problem with this was that, unless it was made spotless in between each user, there’d be forensic material from countless other people residing in the property. The second was the home of the Dean Kirby’s girlfriend, in Barrow. Craig had overseen that and had sent through notes with his comments alongside. It came with its own set of issues, because Dean Kirby didn’t own it and it was only his primary residence for as long as he was in a relationship with his girlfriend. She could easily argue away other DNA evidence, should she so wish.
So their focus wasn’t so much on genetic material but on physical evidence that could link the two men after their release dates, indicating that they were pursuing the same line of work or activity before their deaths, and possibly giving their killer a motive.
Her whole team was punctually assembled and talked amongst themselves. Animated chatter was a good sign, it meant energy was high. Kelly walked to the front of the room. The awkward way that she and Johnny had said good night last night played on her mind, but seeing her team distracted her. She noticed some new uniforms, including Fern Brown, and was thankful for Andrew Harris. She’d requested further data crunchers. Unfortunately, the sexy side of detective work, the bits one saw on TV, was uncommon; officers mainly spent time at a desk trawling through the thousands of pieces of information that came their way, hoping to find a match or a new lead. So far, apart from her trusted inner circle of regulars – Kate, Rob, Dan and Emma – Kelly had been lent a further twenty-three uniforms to lighten the load, which would only get heavier as more information came in. It felt like they were racing against time, because this killer had a hunger for what he did; he enjoyed it.
This is how she started the brief. She stood in front of the incident board and brought up their ever-growing display of leads, suspects, persons of interest, locations, sightings and so on. It looked like an old-fashioned pinboard with photos and diagrams attached to it, but it was a digitalised version. Kelly checked it several times a day, hungry for developments.
‘Let’s take a step back,’ she said. ‘Those present stared at the photographs of what the murderer had done to his victims. This guy savours what he does. I had it confirmed this morning from Dean Kirby’s medical records that he had a severe latex allergy, and so it would seem plausible that the killer’s arousal was cut short by premature death. We surmise that he either booted Dean in the head out of frustration, or he shoved him over in his chair so hard that he hit his head with serious impact, it made him exasperated, and he went after Jack the same day. There are precedents for this kind of serial behaviour. The lead-up to a kill excites the perp to such extremes that he has to follow through. An unfulfilling kill, like that of Dean Kirby, would be highly unsettling, and he’d have to satisfy the urge to finish the job. I’ve been discussing sadomasochism with DI Lockwood from Barrow, and it doesn’t have to involve sexual acts. The infliction of pain is enough to bring about orgasm.’ She paused.
The officers took notes and the newcomers listened, transfixed. On cases such as these, when help was required from uniforms, fresh faces always arrived full of enthusiasm and excitement. Extra boots were made up of those thinking about jumping on a detective course in the near future. That’s what Kelly had done in London. She’d found the twisted minds of murderers fascinating. She looked at Fern Brown, who was captivated, Kelly knew, by the thrill of it all. Based on that look alone, she wouldn’t be surprised if the young PC applied for the detective course. She carried on.
