Death on High (The Lakeland Murders) (17 page)

‘Malcolm this is the fella I was telling you about, Gary Benson.’

Malcolm waved to them to sit down. His fingers looked like overfilled Cumberland sausages, and Mann thought he’d never seen a better advert for vegetarianism. Not that he’d ever be tempted.

‘All right Gary?’ Malcolm’s voice was surprisingly high-pitched. ‘I hear that you’ve got a source of DEFRA paperwork, is that right?’

‘Aye, it is.’

‘Bloke by the name of Ray Turner, based in Kendal. Is that right?’

Mann nodded.

‘I’ve asked my friendly local DEFRA bloke and he doesn’t know him. Has he been there long?’

‘Aye, years.’

Malcolm looked coolly at Mann.

‘And he works on the livestock side, does he?’

‘No, something to do with water and fish and beetles and stuff.’

Malcolm laughed.

‘That explains it then, don’t it? And you reckon your friend can get you a few passports for our little enterprise?’

‘Mebbe.’

‘How does he come by them?’

‘That’s his business. I don’t ask.’

‘Very wise Gary, very wise. The world would be a much better place if people asked a lot less questions, that’s what I always say.’

Malcolm wheezed out a chuckle.

‘I hear you used to be in the forces, is that right?’

‘The Marines.’

‘Why did you leave?’

‘I’d done twelve, just fancied a change. I’ve regretted it since though.’

‘Oh yes, why’s that?’

‘No qualifications, and I’m getting on a bit now. So I need to make a bit of money while I still can.’

‘You look fit enough to me, but I suppose that’s not saying much, is it? And do what we ask and you’ll make good money with us Gary, I promise you that. But you do know how to keep your mouth shut, don’t you?’

‘Yeh, of course I do. Ben will tell you.’

Malcolm glanced at Ben, who nodded agreement.

‘But I doubt you’re frightened of me and what I could do if you stepped out of line, are you Gary? The only way I could hurt you is if I sat on you. Isn’t that right?’ Malcolm wheezed out another chuckle, and Mann said nothing.

‘I understand why a big strong lad like you wouldn’t be scared of the likes of me, of course I do. It’s only natural, is that. But the thing is this son, I’ve been watching animals die since I were fourteen year old. Every single day I’ve seen the light go out of their eyes. You never tire of it, you know what I mean? But I bet you’ve seen people die, haven’t you? Army lad like you. Close up like.’

Mann said nothing, and he’d seen enough cons to know that when it mattered you had to stay strong, and stay quiet too. Eventually Malcolm spoke again.

‘It’s been nice meeting you Gary, it really has. We’ll see you back here in a couple of days, eh? Well I say we, but I won’t actually be here at that time of night. Doctor’s orders, you understand.’

‘Scare you, did he?’ asked Brockbank, as they drove back towards Alston, using the main roads this time.

‘Yeh, a bit.’

‘You’re no fool Gary. He scares the shit out of me. Tell you the truth I’d prefer to never have to see that fat fucker again, but now he’s got me involved I can’t get out of it.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I did my first job for him last back end, and since then he’s wanted something from me every month. I’m struggling to come up with safe targets already. Farmers are on their guard against livestock theft you know, so it’s not easy.’

‘What if you don’t come up with another target? Has he threatened you?’

‘Not directly, but you’ve seen see what he’s like.’

‘Persuasive.’

‘You could say that.’

‘Well cheers for getting me involved Ben, I appreciate that.’

Brockbank laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have, but Spedding told him about your mate in DEFRA. So now you’re flavour of the month. Sorry if I’ve dropped you in it, marrer.’

‘I’ll survive. Now what about that dinner you said you’d buy me?’

‘I never said that.’ Then Brockbank smiled, realising what Mann was getting at. ‘Go on then, I suppose you’ve earned it.’

After lunch Jane Francis was struggling to concentrate on her work, and she hated that feeling. It was how things got missed, how mistakes were made. Mind you, most of her case load was dull, and that was partly her own fault. Because she was so good with numbers and data she got everything that involved information rather than people, which meant fraud, and lots of it. At present she was trying to track down what had happened to a few hundred grands’ worth of a used car dealer’s customer’s cars, not to mention a big pile of his bank’s money. She was not enjoying the process. It felt like being an accountant, but without the excitement.

Jane kept thinking back over the interview with Lillian Hill. She’d checked her notes twice, and at no point did Lillian say that she knew Vicky, or Tony Harrison come to that. They hadn’t asked the question, Jane was sure of it, but that didn’t matter. Why wouldn’t Lillian have simply volunteered the information?

The options, Jane thought, were binary. Either Lillian really didn’t know Vicky, or she did, and was deliberately withholding the information. And why would she want to do that? Jane knew that she had a decision to make. It was clear that she’d have to talk to Lillian Hill, but could she really do that with or without Andy Hall’s knowledge and consent? Normally it would have been no decision at all, she’d ask him for sure, but she just had an overwhelming feeling that he’d say no. For the first time in her brief but relatively successful Police career, Jane decided to ignore her orders and talk to Lillian Hill anyway, and as soon as she could too.

Andy Hall was out of the office all day, on some computer course that he badly needed but would not enjoy, so Jane phoned Lillian’s office and discovered that she had a case meeting at three, but would be working at home after that. ‘We’re hot-desking here now’ said the colleague of Lillian’s that Jane spoke to. She hadn’t sounded all that enthusiastic about it either.

Jane carried on reconciling the car dealer’s endless transactions for the rest of her shift, and she left promptly at five. Ray Dixon seemed surprised when she offered to walk out to the car park with him. He didn’t think that it had ever happened before.

‘When the cat’s away, eh Jane?’

‘Something like that.’

Lillian Hill seemed equally surprised when Jane knocked on her door, but asked her in and opened the door to the living room.

‘I hope this won’t take long. I have a lot of work to do. You know how it is.’

‘Yes, I certainly do. It was just one thing actually. Do you know either of the Harrisons?’

Lillian hesitated before she answered, and looked out of the window briefly before she did.

‘Slightly, yes. They used to go to the same church as I do, St Jim’s.’

‘Used to?’

‘Yes, Vicky stopped coming a while back, before Tony had his accident. And she hasn’t been back since, except for the funeral of course.’

‘And you didn’t mention this when we interviewed you previously. Why was that, Ms. Hill?’

‘I only knew them slightly, it didn’t seem important.’

‘And you weren’t walking with them that day?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘So it was a co-incidence that you were all up on the hill at the same time.’

‘Of course. I’m a keen fell walker, and they were too.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘One of them must have mentioned it. Now is that it? I really must get on.’

‘I have to ask this, so please don’t be offended, but were you having a relationship with Tony Harrison?’

Afterwards Jane thought that Lillian hesitated, just for a moment, and that her anger seemed just very slightly forced. Her blush wasn’t though.

‘No, no, of course not. Tony was a married man. Who told you that? Was it the old bag next door?’

‘So just to be clear, you’re saying that you weren’t in a relationship with Tony Harrison, and that you weren’t with them that day?’

‘No, I mean yes. I wasn’t in a relationship with Tony, OK? Now please leave me to get on with my work. In my job I meet all sorts, and I do try not to judge, but some people do have the morals of farmyard animals. But I’m not one of them, even if you are.’

Yeh right, thought Jane as she left. You’re as guilty as sin.

As she was leaving, the front door swinging closed behind her, Jane searched for a phrase she’d heard in Sunday School when she was a child. That was it, a whited sepulchre. That’s what Lillian was. But even if Jane could prove that she’d been having an affair with Tony, and the old bag next door sounded like a good place to start, how could that possibly connect to Tony’s death?

Jane walked to her car, which was parked almost outside Lillian’s house, and drove down the road. Then she parked, sat and waited for fifteen minutes, and walked back towards Lillian’s house. It didn’t take a detective to work out which house was home to the old bag. Because the house on one side of Lillian’s had a perfectly kept privet hedge, and the one on the far side had a child’s bike in the porch.

Jane knocked on the door of privet cottage and waited.

‘I don’t want any’ shouted someone from inside.

‘I’m not a sales person’ said Jane, opening the letterbox and bending down. ‘I’m a Police Officer.’

Jane heard one chain being slid noisily off, then another. Then the sound of a key being turned in the lock. Jane couldn’t remember ever being called to a burglary in this street, but someone was taking no chances. The door swung open slowly, and not very far. Jane opened her Warrant Card and held it up. Finally the door opened. The old bag actually looked friendly enough.

‘Yes love?’

‘Could I come in for a second Mrs...’

‘Openshaw.’

Jane followed the old lady slowly down the corridor.

‘Can I offer you some tea love?’

‘No thanks. I won’t keep you.’

Mrs. Openshaw looked slightly disappointed. They’d reached the kitchen by now, and Jane decided not to suggest they went to the sitting room instead. She could be done in the time it would have taken to get there.

‘I wanted to ask you about your neighbour, Lillian Hill.’

‘I knew it.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘I knew it. She’s no better than she ought to be, that one.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow.’

‘Calls herself a Christian, but she’s a hypocrite.’

‘Maybe, but that’s not a crime. Now what I wanted to ask you was...’

‘In and out all the time he was. I expect they were at it like rabbits.’

‘You’re saying that Lillian has’ Jane searched for a phrase, ‘a gentleman caller?’

‘Had, he hasn’t been round there in weeks now. I expect they’ve got a love-nest somewhere else now, Manchester maybe.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘All sorts happens in Manchester love. Wicked it is. You want to stay away from that place.’

Jane smiled. In retrospect she hadn’t quite found Manchester wicked enough.

‘Can you describe this man?’

‘Oh yes, and I can give you his car registration number too. Hang on a minute. I wrote it down, for when you called.’

Mrs. Openshaw looked triumphant when she returned, waving an envelope.

‘Here it is love’

Jane wrote it down. ‘So what did he look like?’

‘Young, about forty five, quite slim, stylish, smart looking. She’d done well for herself. I tell you that.’

‘What colour hair?’

‘Dark, and grey. Sort of salt and pepper really. I like grey hair on a man, don’t you love?’

Jane said that she did, and made her excuses. As she left the house she didn’t look to see if Lillian was watching her go. She started the car, and set off for home. But then she changed her mind, and went back to the Police station. She logged on to her computer, ran a PNC check on the registration number and came up with nothing: there was no car of that number. She tried transposing the numbers, got nothing, then substituted numbers, trying a 2 for the 7 she’d been given. And that was it: the car, a Saab, was registered to Anthony Harrison.

Jane sat and looked at the screen. So she’d established beyond doubt that Mrs. Openshaw had dodgy eyesight, and that Lillian was having an affair with Tony, but so what? They also had an eyewitness who had first seen two figures on the fell, and then just Vicky. He’d made no mention of anyone else, Jane was sure. And a co-incidence was still perfectly possible. Over the last couple of years she’d met an old university friend on Haystacks, and someone from the village in Derbyshire where she’d grown up in Patterdale somewhere.

She found Adrian Butterworth’s mobile phone number and dialled. He answered on the second ring.

‘Where are you tonight Adrian? On the road somewhere exotic?’

‘A Travelodge just outside Luton. I’m off to get something to eat in a minute. It’s been a long day in the saddle.’

‘What kind of car do you drive?’ Jane didn’t know why she’d asked.

‘An Avensis, diesel. Lovely car. Drive her gently and I see nearly 60mpg, would you believe it?’

‘I bet you’re the talk of your fleet department.’

Butterworth didn’t laugh, so Jane assumed that he probably was.

‘Anyway Adrian, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to check something with you.’

‘Fire away.’ She could hear the pleasure in his voice.

‘When you saw the figures on the fell, the first time, could you see anyone else with them?’

‘No’ he replied instantly.

‘Could you see a big area around the two people?’

‘Not really, maybe a few metres on either side, and not much behind them at all. But there was no-one with them, I’m, sure.’

‘And not near them either?’

‘Not as far as I could see, no.’

‘And how about the second time?’

This time Butterworth did hesitate.

‘No, not with her then either. She was on her own as far as I could see.’

‘And how much could you see, around and about Vicky Harrison?’

‘Even less than the first time. It was really closing in all the time. It was like looking in through a window, if you know what I mean.’

‘So how far either side could you see do you reckon?’

‘Literally a few feet, ten at most. And it was just for a couple of seconds, like I said.’

‘And behind her? Could you see anything?’

‘No, I’m sorry, nothing. Has that been a help?’

‘A huge help, thanks.’

Jane put the phone down, and thought briefly about Butterworth sitting on his own at a table in some chain eatery and waiting for something deep fried to arrive. It reminded her that she was hungry.

Tuesday, 12th March

Ian Mann was sitting in Andy Hall’s office when he got in to work. They were due to meet with Val Gorham and Robinson at nine, and had agreed to have a chat beforehand.

‘Morning Ian, been here long?’

‘Long enough to read your personnel files.’

‘Very funny. You’re welcome to read yours any time you like. I show you what I write at each appraisal anyway, and the rest is just management bollocks dreamed up at HQ.’

‘By the folk with blues and twos on their desks?’

‘They’re the ones. Always racing to the next promotion. Anyway, who’s the clever boy then? Robinson’s delighted that you’ve tracked down this Malcolm Fraser character, especially because he’s involved with both Brockbank and Spedding. We’ve been having a discrete look at him too.’

‘Good. It was pretty obvious he’s got solid connections over there, maybe even with us.’

‘We’re being cautious, don’t worry. I asked HQ if there was a way we could run checks without it showing up on the computer at all, and there is. Authorised by the Chief yesterday morning. So no-one, including our friends on the force in Yorkshire, will know that we’re interested in Fraser.’

‘Great, thanks. I’m probably just paranoid.’

‘That’s possible, because he comes up clean.’

‘Really? He struck me as being a right nasty bastard.’

‘Well that’s the other possibility isn’t it? That your new friend Malcolm Fraser might have friends in high place as well as low ones. And there are a few indications. For a start he’s loaded, and that’s just what he declares to HMRC. If he’s bent he’ll have cash to burn, but we haven’t started looking at that yet. But either way he’s doing very well indeed from a run-down slaughterhouse and meat processing business.’

‘So influential friends might have kept him out of trouble all these years?’

‘It’s possible. And of course Robinson is absolutely made up about it.’

‘Really, why?’

‘Because if they’ve got some rotten apples over in the Yorkshire force, as he insists on calling them, then that’s another argument against amalgamating forces.’