Death on High (The Lakeland Murders) (12 page)

‘Take a pew’ said Spedding, and Dixon sat, grasping the briefcase firmly on his knee.

‘Drink?’

‘No thanks.’

‘So you’re from DEFRA, Mr Turner. Which office?’

‘Kendal.’

‘You’re a long way from home.’

‘I know Gary from there. He’s moved up here now.’

‘And what job do you do? Something in movement orders is it?’

‘Oh no, I’m a freshwater ecologist. I check that farmers aren’t polluting the watercourses.’

‘How did you come by these then?’ Spedding tapped the file.

‘Gary asked me to get them.’

‘He’s a persuasive bloke then, isn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

Spedding looked at Dixon, then reached out across the table and grabbed the case. Dixon’s reflex was to hold on harder.

‘Let go’ Spedding hissed, and Dixon did.

Spedding upended the case and emptied the contents onto the round table, and went through the contents, throwing them back to Dixon when he was done.

‘Do you mind if I keep your card?’

Dixon shook his head.

‘You got a mobile on you?’

‘Yes.’ It was out before Dixon had a chance to think. He handed over his phone, and tried not to panic. It was his own personal phone, so had he phoned work on it? Spedding was looking at his call history.

‘What’s this number?’ He turned the phone round. It just said ‘Station’.

‘That’s the Police station in Kendal.’ Dixon couldn’t risk lying and Spedding checking.

‘Why do you call the cop-shop?’

‘We’ve got several criminal cases outstanding at the moment.’

‘Who d’you deal with there?’

‘A DI called Hall, Andy Hall.’

‘Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.’

He tossed the phone back to Dixon.

‘So you can get other stuff if we want?’

‘If Gary asks me, I can try.’

Spedding leant across the table. Dixon could smell the beer on his breath.

‘Now listen, you pathetic pen-pusher. From now on Gary may do the talking, but I’ll be the one asking the questions. You understand?’

Dixon nodded. Spedding was still holding on to Dixon’s jacket collar.

‘You know my name, do you?’

‘No, Gary didn’t say.’

‘He’s a clever boy, your mate. Looks a bit handy too. What do you know about him?’

‘I’ve known him since we were kids’

‘Ah, that’s nice. So what does he do?’

‘He’s on the dole at the moment, but he used to be a Marine. Then he did security jobs in Spain, He only looked me up again when he got back, and the other day he asked if I could get those.’ Dixon glanced down at the file.

‘Yeh, he looked liked a squaddie. That or a copper. You’re not a copper are you, Turner?’

Dixon shook his head.

‘No, you’re not a copper. You look like you’re going to shit yourself, and you can’t fake fear. I’m gonna check you out very carefully now Mr. Turner, and if you’re not who you say you are then your friend Gary is well on his way to an accident. A nasty one. Now fuck off out of it.’

Dixon walked back to his car, and drove slowly out of Carlisle. He was pretty sure he wasn’t being followed, but he stopped at the first services on the way south, walked in and stood near the door. Now he was completely sure. He called Hall and told him what had happened.

‘Do you think they’ll check you out?’

‘I’m sure of it. I almost shat myself when he looked at my phone. Fortunately I’d only called the station on it once or twice recently.’

‘OK Ray, you get off home. Bloody well done though. I’m going to put DEFRA on notice right now. Pound to a pinch of snuff he’ll be phoning in asking for you before close of play today.’

‘How will you get them to handle it?’

‘They’ll take a message and make sure they tell Spedding or whoever calls that you spend most of your time in the field. That should do it.’

Ian Mann forced himself to stay in the house all that evening, and not to keep looking out of the window. Brockbank was on one of the Subaru message-boards, and they chatted about the hound trail on Saturday. Mann said he was still on for it. A couple of the other lads told them to get a room if they couldn’t stay on-thread, and Mann logged off. He was wondering if he could keep two undercover operations going at the same time. And what if Gorham was right, and there was a king-pin behind Brockbank, maybe he was involved with Spedding too. Maybe it was Spedding himself, although Mann seriously doubted that. But Mann was learning not to think too far ahead, and to try to play what was in front of him. It had worked so far, and he reckoned if he kept it all together for another few weeks he’d probably help get a decent result. Then he got changed and went for a long run. It always cleared his head.

As soon as he got back he knew that something was wrong. The front door wasn’t closed properly; he could see the reflection of the lock plate in the streetlight. Mann slowed down, but didn’t break stride. When he reached the door he pushed it gently, and went in fast. The lights were off, and he left them that way. If he was going to catch anyone they’d be upstairs, so he ran up the stairs, roaring as he did so. He hadn’t heard himself make that sound in years, and the last time he did there were a dozen or more mates around him.

But when he’d checked the two bedrooms and come back downstairs he quickly confirmed that his visitors were long gone. They’d been surprisingly tidy, but there was no doubt that he was intended to know that he’d had a caller, and that his house had been watched. He got his toolbox, and fixed the front door as well as he could, then bolted it after. Then he checked to see if they’d found where he’d hidden his Blackberry and Warrant card. They hadn’t, or at least he didn’t think they had. He wondered about getting them finger-printed when he was next in Kendal, but decided against. He was almost sure that they were exactly as he’d left them.

Friday, 1st March

Hall woke especially early. He’d been dreaming that he was at a wedding, he wasn’t sure whose, and the tables were all covered in water. The plates were floating about, and he thought he remembered petals in the water too. By recent standards it wasn’t bad at all, but as he surfaced he found himself wondering whose wedding it had been.

He showered, dressed, and read his email before breakfast. He wasn’t surprised to read Mann’s brief, understated email saying that his house had been broken into. There was nothing from DEFRA about anyone enquiring about Ray Turner, so maybe Spedding hadn’t bought Ray’s story. Hall started to feel tense. He was de-briefing Ray at 9am, and he intended to drive north and meet Mann later.

Hall did what he usually did in these situations. He left the kids asleep and headed straight to work. It was just before 7am and the sky was lightening in the east. When he walked in to the office he saw that Jane was already there, and he wasn’t surprised when she knocked on his office door five minutes later. She was carrying two teas, which he took as a good sign.

‘I hear it’s all been happening with Ian.’

‘Blimey, news travels fast in here. I wish the same could be said of my expenses. But yes, Ian’s place got turned over last night. I’m a bit worried that’s Spedding’s rumbled him, or maybe Ray, or maybe both of them. But maybe he’s just being careful. I just don’t know.’

‘Ian can take care of himself boss.’

‘I know that Jane, but my job is to manage the risk. And I’ll tell you one thing, if I’m not happy I’m going to call this off, and to hell with Gorham and Robinson and the lot of them. If we had more money we could just do an old fashioned target-and-surveillance operation on cowboys like Brockbank and Spedding, instead of all this cloak and dagger nonsense. When you get down to it, I’ve got a friend and colleague who’s out there with no proper protection, and all to save a few quid.’

Jane looked taken aback, and Hall noticed. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit stressed this morning. I shouldn’t sound off at you. Anyway, what can I do for you?’

‘Don’t worry about it Andy. I wanted to tell you what happened when I talked to Ed Willis.’

‘I thought you did. You’re like a greyhound in the slips. So can I safely assume that he confirmed that Tony Harrison was playing away?’

‘You can. He doesn’t know who with, but it sounds fairly recent and fairly intense.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Lots of texting, phone calls at work. That sort of stuff.’

‘Blimey Jane, you are the last of the great romantics. So you’re saying that the middle-aged aren’t allowed strong feelings, are you?’

‘I’m nearly middle-aged boss.’

‘Rubbish.’ She smiled, and Hall felt a bit better.

‘So now that we do have at least a possible motive for murder, do we make it official?’ Jane asked.

Hall knew that the correct answer was no.

‘Yes. As of now. Open a case file today please, get a formal statement off Ed Willis, and then we’ll start looking at both Tony and Vicky. Maybe get some of the background checks in motion today if you can.’

‘What about Robinson? Won’t he go ape-shit?’

‘Oh yes, he’s going to be furious, but he can’t do a thing when you raise the file. If he kicks up I’ll ask him if he wants to give me a statement confirming what he told me originally. That should shut him up.’

‘So you think that Vicky might have pushed Tony?’

‘Of course not. But what I think isn’t at issue here, nor what you think either, come to that.’

‘Well I think she did it.’

Hall smiled. ‘So you keep saying Jane. Tell you what, give me an update early next week and we can take it from there. If Robinson hasn’t got me out with the PCSOs on dog-dirt patrol our next move will probably be to chat to Vicky again. Let’s see what she knew about this other woman.’

‘And you’ll do that alone, will you boss? Over a bottle of wine maybe.’

Hall smiled again. He deserved it. ‘Very funny. No, we’ll do it together. All right?’

‘Fine boss. I’ll get on to it right now.’

‘I bet you will Jane. I bet you will.’

Hall spent the rest of the day talking to Ray, meeting with Mann, updating Gorham and Robinson by email and talking to DEFRA. Sure enough they had taken a call for Ray Turner, first thing that morning, and that made Hall feel much better. Ray phoned the number Spedding had left, and left a voicemail for him. Spedding hadn’t called back, and Hall doubted he ever would.

So by the time he turned off his computer that night Hall was much more confident that Ian was secure, and was actually infiltrating both of the target groups successfully. That should earn him a few Brownie points with Robinson, but Hall found himself caring less and less about what Robinson thought. His sole concern was that Ian was not at risk, and the more he thought about it the more sure he became that he wasn’t, at least for now. Because Mann’s house had been turned over hours before Spedding or one of his boys had called DEFRA, and why even bother doing that if they already knew that Ian was a cop?

Saturday, 2nd March

Ian Mann hadn’t slept well, and he cursed himself for his stupidity as he stood in the shower. If Spedding knew that he was a copper, and that Ray was one too, then there’s no way that he’d do anything about it. He wouldn’t torch the house, or have Dixon attacked in the street. Spedding was a working criminal, and he’d do everything he could to keep out of the Police’s way. So all he had to do, if he did know that Mann was a cop, was to say something to Mann when they next met in the pub, and that would be the end of it. And in any case, all the signs were that Spedding had swallowed Mann’s story hook, line and sinker.

Mann did his food shopping in the morning, found his binoculars and his old flat cap when he got back to the house, and set off for Kentmere. The day was cold and overcast, but it could have been worse. He fancied a drive, so he came off the motorway at Penrith, and drove down the west bank of Ullswater, and then on over Kirkstone. He always enjoyed it when there weren’t too many dawdling tourists about, and he wound his window down so he could hear the exhaust noise bouncing back off the dry stone walls.

He drove slowly up Kentmere, and eventually caught sight of the cars and vans parked in a field off to one side, up near the head of the valley.  He could hear the mud being thrown up by his wheels as he drove on to the trail field, and thought that he’d have to clean the car the next day. He wasn’t alarmed at the prospect. Mann parked next to an old pick up, and as soon as he turned his engine off he could hear the dogs barking in the back.

He was looking forward to the trail, but was slightly nervous about being recognised. But he hadn’t shaved for days, and with his cap pulled down he hoped he’d be OK. If the worst came to the worst he’d have to just try to brazen it out, and hope that Brockbank would buy a claim of mistaken identity. But Mann very much doubted that he would.