Lying Ways, page 22
‘Somebody wants to know if you have a relative called Ian,’ Liam said.
Rickie’s eye flickered and he fiddled with the skin of his mangled ear. His forefinger caressed the long silver scar and the officer couldn’t see it, but his pulse rate elevated slightly.
‘Somebody?’
‘Coppers. They’re also pushing for a cell search. A proper cell search,’ Liam said.
Rickie came to the entrance of his cell and poked his head out, looking right and left.
‘And just what do they think they’ll find?’ Rickie whispered. His face was hidden in the shadow of the door, away from CCTV, and Liam’s back was to the closest camera.
‘Phones.’
‘How long have I got?’ Rickie breathed.
‘Could be tomorrow or Monday. Guv’s hands are tied on this,’ Liam added.
Rickie nodded, understanding fully what the officer had just given him. He’d presented him with a lifeline. A way out of having his world torn apart by the coppers. Much better to divert and take the hit on a lesser crime than go down for your whole livelihood and lose everything. He knew who to rally.
‘Leave the officers out of it, Rickie,’ said Liam, his mouth barely moving. Rickie’s head nodded ever so slightly, and Liam took it as an agreement. Liam walked away, his polished black boots tapping on the newly cleaned floor.
Rickie followed him down the wing and knocked on a few doors. The men were locked inside their cells for most of the day, but that didn’t stop them messaging each other through windows using pieces of string, or tapping their walls, or the cleaner speaking directly through the conversation hole. He needed the help of the spice heads and the hooch makers on this one. No fucker was searching his cell without his say-so, and he wasn’t about to lose thirty grand on his new stash of wing phones. Highton was about to explode, and Rickie Burton was going to sit and watch.
Chapter 41
‘It’s the CCTV from the visits room,’ Rob said. Kelly pulled up a chair.
‘I thought you were working on Rickie Burton’s bank accounts?’ she asked.
‘I was, but there were some transactions that made me do a bit of digging. I started to investigate the cash withdrawals, because it means somebody else has access to his account. The ATM shows up on the bank statement and every machine has a code. These are all from the same one in Whitehaven, always the same amount, and all on visit days.’
‘How the hell did do you know how to do that?’ Kelly asked.
‘The same reason I know how to launder money from lap dance clubs,’ he replied, smiling at her.
‘It’s a good job you’re not a criminal, Rob, you’d be so good at it.’
‘So I thought I’d check the days and I found this,’ he said, sitting back and freezing the frame on his computer.
‘Holy shit,’ she said.
‘I thought you’d be excited,’ he said.
In the middle of the visits room at Highton, handing a plastic chair to a prison guard, to make room for a family of four, in full view of the CCTV camera, which had been so cleverly angled as to miss Rickie Burton’s visitors, was Ian Burton.
She called Emma. It was now vital they locate their suspect. Emma answered; they were almost at the care home in Waberthwaite. ‘Make sure you photograph their winches and find out who manufactures the gloves. I want to know if they contain enough latex to cause anaphylaxis.’
She’d had it confirmed by the histology lab that food and drugs were not the cause of Dean Kirby’s anaphylaxis.
‘Yes, guv.’
Kelly knew that Emma would be thorough without her vocalising the instructions, but she needed to say them out loud. It was like a checklist in her own mind and helped ease her racing thoughts.
‘Ask if he wore a signet ring, too,’ she said.
‘Yes boss, and the lamps, I’ve got it all.’
‘Of course you have,’ Kelly said. They hung up and she called Craig in Barrow. She paced up and down, hand occasionally on hip, gesticulating with it as she spoke. He listened as she listed the developments, one by one. She left Rob and went back to her office, listening to Craig.
‘I think in light of this new evidence, your warrant for the cell search won’t be a problem. Is it with Carlisle County Court?’ he asked.
‘Yes, and I agree, it’s certainly in the interest of public safety. This removes the question mark over whether the invasion of privacy is merited,’ she said.
‘I’ve sent you a couple of photographs of a few local scumbags down here who are linked to those mobile phones found. The IMEIs pinged off cell towers in Barrow three times, and it makes sense that Dean Kirby had communication about whatever he was going to do in Seascale before he left.’
‘Interesting that neither man took the device with him when they were supposed to meet,’ Kelly said.
‘I should think they’d have had new ones,’ Craig said.
‘Why didn’t they destroy the old ones?’ Kelly asked.
‘Sloppy? Amateur? It looks like neither was the sharpest tool in the drawer,’ Craig said.
‘Jack was described as backward by one of the inmates,’ she said as she sat down to look at the email Craig had sent. ‘I’m just looking at those photos now.’
The images were of three separate men, each with a criminal record, each dead behind the eyes, with an unkempt, neglected personal appearance. One in particular caught her attention.
‘The second one,’ she said. She told Craig, reading the attached name to be clear which one she referred to. ‘Check it against the CCTV frame from the Co-op in Workington. Our friend who bought the Snickers bar,’ she added.
There was a pause, then Craig sucked in his breath. ‘Yup, that’s him, he’s a known toerag, and a violent one. His name is Kieran Foster,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring him in.’
‘I want to know where his pal Ian Burton is,’ Kelly said. ‘Does he have previous?’
‘He’s been inside here and there, but I’ll have to remind myself of the details,’ Craig said. She listened as he tapped on his computer and brought up the criminal record of Kieran Foster.
‘Possession with intent to supply, two years in Altcourse, but his remand was at Highton,’ he said.
‘Bingo,’ Kelly said. ‘What’s his tribe? Any ex-forces?’ she asked.
‘I’ll find out,’ he said.
‘Thanks, Craig.’ They hung up. Now they had two suspects, but Kelly reckoned she knew who the mastermind behind the killings was: Rickie Burton. But she had to prove it. She had a decision to make, but first, she called the number for the army personnel centre given to Dan by the MOD. At the same time, she texted both Johnny and Tom Gorman, asking if they knew a veteran called Ian Burton. Sometimes, word of mouth could prove more powerful than any search engine. She loved HOLMES and would never be without it; however, the knowledge of people was still something that good coppers took advantage of. The world of the army, especially the infantry, was a small place, full of veterans and serving personnel who’d formed bonds akin to brother or sisterhood. They had their own language, their own Facebook groups, reunions and old war stories. If Johnny or Tom knew anyone who had come across Rifleman, and subsequently Corporal, Ian Burton, or Kieran Foster, she’d know soon.
The website for service records said it could take up to six months to retrieve them, but when the call was answered and she explained what she needed, they were more than willing to retrieve a full list of serving personnel linked to ex-soldier Ian Burton. Towards the end of the call, as Kelly was beginning to feel enlivened by the new developments, a text came back from Johnny asking one simple question.
‘Why?’
She stared at her phone. Yes or no would have sufficed. Surely, given their recent conversations, it was obvious what she was asking him, and why. Her stomach turned over as she suspected that he did know Ian Burton, and also why she might be asking.
Chapter 42
‘Good morning, Jeanie, it’s Detective Inspector Kelly Porter.’
‘Hello,’ Jeanie said. It was curt and guarded. ‘I’m off sick,’ she added.
‘I’m really sorry to hear that. I wanted to ask you some questions,’ Kelly said.
‘All right,’ Jeanie said.
‘You were at Highton on Thursday, I missed you.’
‘I needed to pick up some personal items.’
‘Right. We need to speak to a man called Ian Burton, I wonder if you know him or have seen him visiting Rickie Burton?’
Jeanie paused, and Kelly heard her breathing. The noise could be identified as only one thing: fear.
‘The other question is about the emails you received from Jack Bell, especially the one from the evening of his release. Did you see him before your scheduled Saturday rendezvous?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Jeanie said.
‘I’m not judging, Jeanie, your relationship with Jack Bell is your business, but it became my concern when he was killed. In the emails to you he mentioned some lucrative work that he might be pursuing. Do you know anything about that? It could be very important to us.’
Jeanie sighed.
‘He was always talking about making it big,’ she laughed gently, and Kelly noted real affection in her voice. She had also relaxed somewhat.
‘Was there any specific plan? Something for Rickie Burton perhaps? You didn’t answer my question about Ian Burton. Is he related to Rickie?’
‘I believe that Rickie had a regular visitor called Ian Burton. All visitors are logged in, so he must be accounted for.’
‘He isn’t – we’ve already been given a list of the visitors for the last three months. We have CCTV footage of Ian Burton at Highton on the last visit day, with Rickie. But no one called Ian is signed in on that day.’
‘That’s odd,’ Jeanie said. She seemed genuine.
It was clear to Kelly that Ian Burton either had fake ID or the prison was sloppy with who it let inside its walls, and that would be down to the staff on duty and prison policy. The CCTV footage had shown Liam Fawcett in the visitors’ room, and he’d explicitly told her that his rank was too senior to be bothered with visit days. Now they’d need to trace every name on the visitors list for that day and see which one didn’t exist, as well as who’d signed them in and out.
‘Did you supervise visit days?’ Kelly asked.
‘Sometimes.’
‘On any day Ian paid a visit?’
‘A couple of times. He was very polite and Rickie was always pleased to see him,’ Jeanie said.
‘Are they related?’
‘I’m not too sure about that.’ She was hesitant.
‘How are visitors processed for contraband?’ Kelly asked.
‘I’m not sure I’m allowed to share operational details with you, detective, I’ll have to ask the governor.’
‘Of course. I’m on my way there now.’
Kelly waited for a moment, undecided about how to proceed.
‘Jeanie, if there’s anything that you know about Rickie Burton’s affairs inside Highton that comes to light in the investigation later, then that could look bad for you. More importantly, it could delay getting answers for Jack. Don’t you want justice for him?’ she asked.
Jeanie stifled a sob.
‘I sense you’re scared, Jeanie. What are you afraid of?’
‘All of them,’ she said. It was a whisper.
‘Who do you mean?’
‘I’m not part of it, but I know Jack was, and so are some of the others. He said he was doing one last job for Rickie. I pleaded with him not to. I told him it was dangerous. I’ve already said too much.’
‘Jeanie, please. Help me. If there’s some kind of cover-up at the prison involving staff and inmates, then it will come out in the end, you know how it works, and you know how it is for female prisoners inside. Perverting the course of justice can carry five years now, and this is a murder investigation.’
‘Rickie Burton can make things happen,’ she said. Kelly heard her blow her nose.
‘You think he’s responsible for what happened to Jack and Dean?’ Kelly asked.
‘Rickie is in charge of all trade inside Highton, and officers get a cut to keep their mouths shut,’ Jeanie said. There was bitterness but also a resignation. Kelly made a note to send a squad car to Jeanie Clark’s address to keep an eye on her.
‘And are you telling me that you weren’t included in this list?’
‘No. Never. Rickie Burton has some kind of warped sense of chivalry,’ she laughed. ‘I know it seems ludicrous saying it out loud. He didn’t pressure me like he did the others.’
‘Pressure?’
‘Payment,’ Jeanie said.
‘How much are we talking?’
‘I don’t know. It was always envelopes of cash. You’ll never find it,’ Jeanie added.
‘All right, let’s backtrack a bit. Is Liam Fawcett involved? The custodial manager?’
Jeanie’s voice broke.
‘Your disclosure has taken this to the next level now, Jeanie. I suggest you remain at home, off sick, until this is all investigated. I’ll arrange it.’
‘They know where I live. I know they do because Liam does.’
‘All right, take it easy. You’re assuming that a prison officer is going to take huge risks to protect a bit of untraceable cash, when he knows that it’s Rickie Burton we’re after. Do you know what exactly Jack was supposed to do for Rickie on the outside? I presume Dean was involved too?’
‘They were to deliver something.’
‘Something? Where? To whom?’ Kelly was becoming frustrated.
‘I can’t…’ Jeanie said. The woman was becoming so distressed that Kelly knew she’d get little more out of her. If she was to be trusted, though, Jeanie had just solidified their motive for murder. She had to warn Kate. She finished the call with Jeanie and dialled Kate’s number. She was almost at Highton.
As expected, her second in command took the new developments calmly.
‘Can I be a real pain?’ Kelly asked.
‘Go on. It’s been a lovely drive, I really should come down this way more often,’ Kate said.
‘There’s a garage opposite the turning for Highton, could you pop in and see if they record their CCTV footage? It’s a long punt, but it’s an obvious place to stop to refuel or pick up some snacks if you’re visiting the prison. Ian Burton might have been there.’
Kate agreed and Kelly told her to enjoy the rest of her drive. She ended the call and grabbed her coat, expecting to be out for most of the day. As she went to check out with Rob, she was distracted by an update on her Toughpad, which vibrated in her hand as she went to put it in to her bag.
She opened it and saw that a notification had come through to HOLMES. As she read, a sickly feeling spread through her stomach.
They’d put a nationwide request into the system for any constabularies that might have unsolved murders involving a similar MO to theirs. They’d had two hits. One was last year, in Glasgow, and the other two years ago, in Manchester. The victims were males, with criminal records, and both were involved in running drugs through Cumbria to Barrow.
They’d both served time at HMP Highton.
Chapter 43
Emma drove and Dan sat in the passenger seat. They chatted about the details of the case and occasionally the view, especially which of the peaks Emma had run across, as well as the odd passer-by peering at a map, looking lost. They’d picked up coffees in Keswick and Dan held on to them, passing Emma’s to her when she was on a straight stretch and could have a slurp. They hadn’t rushed on purpose, taking their time to meander through the countryside. It was an opportunity to be alone together. Their hands touched as he passed her coffee. Emma glanced at him sideways and he allowed his hand to linger.
‘I’ve booked a surprise for us,’ he said.
Emma’s smile broadened and she handed her coffee back. She concentrated on the road.
‘Do I get to know?’ she asked.
‘Then it wouldn’t be a surprise. Are you still free next Saturday?’
‘I thought you couldn’t get away?’ she asked.
‘She’s going to stay with her mother,’ he said. He never mentioned his wife by name. Vocalising her acknowledged her, and that was unnecessary. They’d gone beyond the point where regret or hesitance would change anything. They’d spent the night together last night for the first time. Dan had said he was working late down the coast, and had called his wife to say that he may as well book in to a hotel. In fact they’d stayed at Emma’s, going there after the pub, and falling asleep in the early hours after finally satisfying their cravings for each other in her bed, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms and surprising themselves this morning not with regret, but with pure joy.
They were almost at Waberthwaite village.
‘This coastline is almost as beautiful as Scotland,’ he said. Dan had spent most of his young life in Glasgow, where he was born, never seeing the highlands, but that didn’t stop him being proud. He’d visited the northern wildernesses in adulthood and learned how to climb.
‘You haven’t got a monopoly on breathtaking views, you know,’ she teased. ‘We have it all here, beaches, mountains, lakes and waterfalls, you name it, the list is endless.’
‘Mountains? Under a thousand metres? Hmmm,’ he baited back.
She grimaced in mock despair.
A bottleneck of traffic built up close to Muncaster Castle but Emma and Dan were soon through it and found themselves in the bleak wilderness of the foot of Corney Fell. This part of Cumbria was barren and marshy, and in the middle of nowhere. The care home was down a long private approach road and Emma strained to read a sign.
‘I think that’s it,’ said Dan.
Emma put her indicator on and turned off the main road. The home sat in seven acres of gardens and the entrance was quite dramatic, with rhododendron bushes and tall pines on either side. The road swept upwards towards a hill and they could see a small lake. When they neared the top of the small incline, the house revealed itself in all its grandeur, creating an impressive vista. It was of Victorian Gothic design and reminiscent of the house in the horror film Psycho, with its towers and large windows.
