Cold Death (D.S.Hunter Kerr) (28 page)

“There was blood everywhere. Up the walls and a huge puddle around her head. She was lying on the carpet in the lounge near the armchair. When I left her she was tied up in the bedroom. When I got back he was pacing up and down and he had that knife-thing in his hand. He’d cut her throat with it.”

“Was she still tied up?”

“Her hands were behind her back but he’d untied her feet.” Pervez gulped and look down towards the table. “She wasn’t wearing her jeans or her knickers. I knew what he’d done.”

“When you say she was dead did you check at all to see if she was still alive?”

“I looked at her but you could tell. There was a big pool of blood. Her eyes were wide open. She wasn’t breathing.”

“What did you do?”

I freaked out. I couldn’t believe he’d done that. We argued and I asked him why. He said Uncle Mohammed wanted him to do it. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not.”

“What happened then?”

“Ari said we had to get rid of the body. He wrapped Samia in the carpet, wiped the knife-thing and put it in with her and then he asked me to help bind her up. After that he rang Uncle Mohammed.”

“Did Ari tell your uncle what he had done?”

“Yes he told him he had slit her throat. But I don’t know what my uncle was saying. I couldn’t hear that part of the conversation.”

“Is that when you brought Samia across to Barnwell and dumped her in the lake?”

“No we kept her body in the flat a couple of days. We put the rug in the bath so no more blood seeped out. Ari said Uncle Mohammed was going to ring him and tell him where to take the body. Then that Friday evening Ari took a call from Uncle Mohammed and said he had found a place to hide Samia where no one would find it. That’s when we drove to the lake and dumped her.” His voice started to quaver. “That is the truth. I didn’t kill Samia. It was Ari. My Uncle Mohammed told him to do it.”

* * * * *

It was after six pm when Hunter and Grace finally returned to the incident room having completed a second interview with Mohammed Hassan. He had been more stubborn than his nephews. He had refused to accept the testimonies and evidence presented and had continually bleated that everyone was lying against him – including his wife. However as they had walked him back to his cell they had witnessed the first signs of him cracking. As Hunter had slammed the heavy, reinforced door into its metal frame he had inspected him through the door’s hatch. Mohammed had looked up at him from the bench with glassed over eyes, quickly followed by a pained look as he had hung his head into his chest.

With a satisfied smile Hunter had slid the metal hatch shut with a resounding clang.

Feeling energised despite the long day he bounced into the MIT office. It was full; the Office Manager, Detective Inspector Gerald Scaife, and the SIO, Detective Superintendent Michael Robshaw, were amongst the team waiting.

Hunter could see them searching his face. He guessed Grace would be experiencing the same. He surveyed the room before flashing a wide grin.

“Result. Pervez has coughed. And he’s given us enough to hang his brother and Mohammed.”

The cheer was deafening.

* * * * *

Hunter swilled the remaining dregs of his pint around the bottom of the glass as if it was the finest brandy and swallowed. “That never touched the sides,” he said nudging Barry Newstead, “fancy another?  I owe you one.”

Barry drained the remaining half of his pint in one mouthful and wiped the froth from his dark, bushy moustache with the back of his hand. “I’ll not refuse a free pint.”

Hunter made his way to the bar weaving between members of the team. They had all congregated into small groups as they usually did at these celebratory gatherings. A couple of his colleagues gave him a congratulatory tap on his shoulder as he squeezed past.

As he plonked the empty glasses down on the bar he cast his look around monitoring the faces of his workmates and couldn’t help but bring to mind the first few words which had been instilled in him that first day in CID after Barry Newstead had taken him out and got him rolling drunk.

‘The spirit and bonding of a team is created in the pub’ he had said. ‘Putting a frustrating, complicated and exhausting enquiry to bed with a celebratory drink is what gels everyone together.’ How true those pearls of wisdom had been proved over the years.

As he waited to be served he mused over the hurried briefing Detective Superintendent Michael Robshaw had given less than a half hour ago. He had watched the SIO make energetic scribbled notes on the incident board, but out of those had come cohesive actions for tomorrow.

He and Grace had been given the specific job of charging Ari, Pervez, and Mohammed with murder, and also handed the task of putting together the remand file for court, whilst the remainder of the MIT were to tie up all the loose ends; logging evidence and collecting statements to make everything stick.

He knew that the hard work wasn’t yet over; their aim was to stack the evidence so much in the prosecution’s favour that a guilty plea was inevitable.

Hunter was just trying to grab the attention of one of the bar staff when he felt his mobile vibrate in his trouser pocket. He dragged it out and took a look at the incoming caller. He saw the word ‘gym’ flash onto the screen. This has to be his dad. He took the call.

For a second all he could pick up was heavy breathing then his father’s voice came on the line. He sounded frantic.

“Hunter get down here quick,” he heard his father say. “It’s Billy and Rab they’ve just turned up.”

Then the phone cut off.

* * * * *

Billy Wallace had spent most of the morning propped up in his hotel bed switching channels between TV shows unable to concentrate on any of them. He had gone through the final plans time again in his head. Then before lunch he had shaved off the beard, which had been his disguise for the past two weeks, and headed out on the road in his recently acquired Range Rover.

He had met Rab and the two hired helps at Woodall Services on the M1 and run through the scenario with them. Rab had stayed the night holed up in another motel with the men making sure they didn’t contact anyone before the job was completed.

In hushed tones, over a late full English breakfast, Billy double-checked that everyone knew their part and confident he had everything in place he handed over the remainder of the cash he owed to the two co-conspirators before piling into the 4x4 and setting off towards Barnwell.

It had been a frustrating and sometimes restless afternoon but finally they had spotted Jock Kerr emerging from the refuge of his son’s house and get in his hired car. Billy checked his watch. It
was just after six pm.

They had kept their distance as they followed him. From the direction Jock took Billy guessed he was heading for the gym. And as he pulled into the car park he knew his intuition had been proved correct.

They watched Jock saunter across the tarmac occasionally looking around him before entering through the rear double doors.

Then Billy issued his instructions.

* * * * *

DS John Reed and his partner DC Craig McDonald stared out of the large plate glass window
into the car park below them. They had been in the first floor office of the empty warehouse since seven am that day. It was their fourth stint in the observation post and they were becoming weary.

John Reed was thankful for the sunshine, which beamed in at them through the large window. There was no heating in the building and this was all they had for warmth. He would be glad when they had captured Billy Wallace and Rab Geddes so that he could get back home. He hadn’t seen any of his family for the best part of a week and the motel room he was sharing with his colleague was not exactly luxurious. To make matters worse he felt his working relationship with Dawn Leggate was becoming compromised because of her dalliances with the Detective Superintendent she had recently met. He had dropped in on her again last night and she had been with him. Instantly, he had registered the embarrassment in her face despite her telling him they were just discussing the joint operation. All in all he wasn’t best pleased with how things were progressing.

The hiss of the radio crackling into life broke his thoughts. The other team were informing them that Jock had just left his son’s house and was alone.

John Reed huffed in frustration. He had only just got off the phone with Jock trying to persuade him not to come to the gym. He made an entry in the log and set the video camera rolling.

Ten minutes later Jock’s car cruised into the car park below and the camera captured him making his way into his gym through the rear doors.

The screeching of tyres two minutes later startled John Reed. He saw the green Range Rover sway to one side as it swept into the car park, slewing into a skid before rocking to a halt. The passenger door flew open and he was mesmerised for a second as the ski masked stocky built man leapt out. Then he was on his radio screaming for a back up, grabbing the sleeve of his partner and leaping towards the stairwell, which led down to the car park.

* * * * *

Scanning the street Billy Wallace watched the Range Rover tear into the car park and slide to a standstill. Opposite the entrance he pressed himself against the trunk of one of the many trees, which lined the road, the shade from the canopy of leaves masking his features. Rab was close by. As he watched one of the masked men leap from the passenger side his slate grey eyes began glancing away at tangents. He was watching and waiting.

It soon paid off. He saw the two detectives tumble out through the doors of a derelict warehouse onto the car park.

He gave the signal and the passenger jumped back into his seat and before he even had time to close the door the back wheels were chewing up gravel as it sped away.

The two officers weren’t far behind. Sprinting across the car park DC McDonald aimed the key fob at a dark blue Vauxhall Vectra, which triggered the opening mechanism with a lighting of orange tail-lights whilst John Reed shouted excitedly into his police radio as he leapt into the front passenger seat.

Less than thirty seconds later the unmarked police car’s engine was being gunned and it was tearing off in hot pursuit.

Billy smiled to himself. It was just how he had hoped.

* * * **

Jock Kerr slowly looked around all four walls of his son’s and daughter-in-law’s lounge. Though he had the place to himself he was feeling anything other than relaxed. In fact if truth be told he was anxious and agitated. It felt as if he was being imprisoned.

This is doing my head in. I’ve had enough.

He picked up the car keys from the coffee table, trotted out of the house, jumped into the hire car and fired up the engine. Before pulling off the drive he phoned DS John Reed on his mobile.

“I’m coming down to the gym. I’m sorry but I can’t take anymore of this. I can’t keep hiding away.” He listened to the detective’s response,
before replying. “Look there are four of you nearby. If Billy and Rab turn up then you’ll nick them won’t you?” He hung up before giving the sergeant an opportunity to object.

He’d watched in his rear view mirror more than he usually did when he was driving but nothing untoward had grabbed his attention and he felt quite relaxed by the time he had reached his gym.

He found the entrance doors locked and checked his watch. He guessed that the boxing coach who had been looking after things in his absence had gone home early. He unlocked both doors and let himself in.

The place was fairly tidy with
only a few weights out of place. He took a long lingering look around. The pristine whitewashed walls gave the gymnasium a clean and bright if not clinical appearance to the place. A full size boxing ring took up half of the floor space with one side for weight training and another for bag work. This place was his pride and joy. It had taken him a long time to build it up. Most of his life was in this place.

I’m buggered if I’m going to lose all this because of those two evil shites!

As he began to reset the loose weights onto the metal racks he heard the screech of tyres on the tarmac outside. He stopped what he was doing and listened. Less than thirty seconds later there was a fresh screech of rubber, quickly followed by another. He snatched up the wall phone and punched in Hunter’s mobile number. As his son answered Jock heard the back doors crash open. He had just enough time to tell his son that Billy and Rab were here before the line went dead.

* * * * *

Billy Wallace slipped into the room alone.

Jock saw that he was still wearing that signature Crombie of his.

After all these years, and he still dresses like he’s the ‘big I am’

Jock took in the menacing look Billy targeted him with as he stepped slowly, deliberately, further into the room. He caught a glimpse of his eyes. Billy’s pupils had become so dilated that his eyes appeared almost black. It was a look Jock had seen in those eyes once before. It was the look of cold death.