Hot Blood (Bloodwords Book 1) (43 page)

‘I find your certainty
impressive,’ said Radcliffe, ‘but it is my guess that you are totally wrong.’

Having given them the opportunity
to voice their opinions, the DI felt that the time to discuss his theory and then
assign tasks had come.

‘How we found Mr Worth had me
thinking,’ he said. Three faces were fixed on him, all concentrating on every
syllable. ‘If the paramedics had not come along to scoop him up and work on
him, if the thieves had carted him out to some remote spot and just left him,
he would have been another dead body with no visible marks but exactly the same
cause of death as the three we already have.’

They we already making the
connection but Radcliffe continued to join up the dots. ‘Peter Archer had some
oil or grease on him. We could not fathom that one out at the time but I think
that he died in exactly the same way as Mr Worth nearly did, under a car. The
two Poles could also fit that scenario, one is a mechanic and I’m having checks
done on the other to see if it all fits. My hunch is that Richard Worth has
given us the missing link.’

‘It might fit Don,’ added
Lescott
. ‘Simon was told that Rick Worth used Peter
Archer’s workshop regularly, but then when he went through the workshop diary
he could not find any entries to back that up.’

‘But the cloned registration
plates were found on the workshop wall,’ said Fraser.

‘Right,’ said Radcliffe. ‘A lot
of it is rather vague but we still have links not only between the deaths and
Worth, but also directly to the car thefts. What we don’t have is the
whereabouts of the cars now or knowledge of who is still involved.’

‘Or why they should get rid of
four of their men,’ responded Fraser. ‘That seems a bit extreme.’

Radcliffe agreed with his
sergeant. Some aspects were more than a little extreme and his theory did
provide rather a lot of links very neatly. Perhaps too neatly. But his hunch
was that it was not far from reality and needed following up. After stressing
that nothing was to be discussed openly – he was still concerned about
leaks and if his theory was right then another leak could kill the whole
operation – he allotted tasks to each of them. Louise Green was to
contact the Jaguar Land Rover plant at Halewood to get some background on Mr Worth.
Debbie
Lescott
and Kyle Fraser were to re-visit the
caravan park where they were to take a good look at the workshop and talk to
Kevin Archer. Then they would compare notes when he himself had returned from
Liverpool, where he had been summoned to report progress so far.

‘Perhaps Kevin is involved too,’
suggested Fraser. ‘If his dad was involved then Kevin might be too.’

‘You could be right, so tread
carefully,’ advised Radcliffe. ‘Don’t let anything out of the bag at this
stage. Debbie has already been there with Frank so Kevin will recognise her.
Your visit today can just be a follow up as far as Kevin is concerned. You’ll
have to think of a plausible excuse to look at the workshop though.

……….

Sitting at a table at a window
looking out onto the car park, Joan Johnson realised just how neglected Green
Fields Caravan Park had become. Not having visited her brother’s business for a
long time its shabby and unkempt appearance had been a shock. Perhaps that was
a trick of the memory. Didn’t we always remember things as we wanted to see
them rather than how they actually were? For sure, although all the buildings
and the general layout were familiar, the picture she had held in her mind had
been from a much earlier time when everything had been fresh and the paint
barely dry. If she really tried she could remember a last visit when the paint
was needing a new coat and some areas were already beginning to look tired, but
that had been when Peter had rowed with her about him being cut out of their
father’s will. In an attempt to remember the good times she usually blocked
that visit out of her mind.

The whole place seemed to have
gone downhill at an alarming rate in the intervening two years. Changing its
name from Site to Park had done nothing other than pay homage to fashion, while
a complete refurbish would have been more appropriate. Looking out onto the car
park she could see for herself the problems Peter had been facing, now passed
on of course to his son Kevin. The car park was rutted and unkempt and the reception
buildings had deteriorated to the point where they just looked like garden
sheds, yet inevitably this would be the first impression visitors would get. It
would not be a good impression, particularly if those visitors had previously
visited a Haven or
CentreParcs
site. The picture
snapped into sharper focus. It was no wonder that Peter had been fighting for
some of her money and some of her land.

Even so, she herself had a fight
on her hands. She might well be sitting on a parcel of land but she didn’t have
the money to develop it and, as looked increasingly possible, might even be in
debt up to her ears. She would have to handle Kevin with firmness, even though
he was her nephew.

‘There you are Aunt Joan,’ he
said, putting a steaming mug of coffee in front of her.

His manner surprised her. Most
things about him had surprised here of late. She still thought of him as a
little boy, as her brother’s little boy, her little nephew. But the little boy
had grown up. The session at her solicitor’s had demonstrated that. Previously
happy just to stand in his father’s shadow, Kevin was now taking his
responsibilities seriously and showing strength of character she had not
realised was there. Perhaps she might have an even harder battle on her hands
than when Peter had been alive.

‘Thank you Kevin,’ she replied.
‘But don’t you think that you could drop the aunt bit? You’re no longer in
short pants are you?’

‘Sometimes,’ he replied with a
grin, adding, ‘when it’s sunny. But if it’s OK with you,’ his eyebrows raising questioningly,
waiting for approval.

‘Of course Kevin, we are all
adults after all.’ Taking a sip of her coffee she looked at her nephew,
wondering what was about to unfold. What she would have to contend with.

‘If we go right back to before
granddad bought your place,’ he began, ‘the whole lot, his house, your barn,
the buildings in the hollow, all the land and the land this caravan site is on,
were all one farm. Then the owner split it up and sold some of it to granddad.’

‘Yes Kevin, I know all that. We don’t
need to concern ourselves with things that far back.’

‘Oh but we do,’ he replied
confidently. ‘Because it was at that point – when it was split up –
that the new boundaries were created.’

After he had explained the
history of their two properties, how old Mr Jarvis had split the land almost
exactly in half, gifting one half to his son Arthur and selling the other to
Joan’s father, he went on to detail how young Arthur had planned the
development in three phases, with his father financing him through phases one
and two. Phase one had been to lay out the site and to put the central
facilities in place. Phase two was to build the reception complex. Phase three
was an extension of the site in general to the full size of the land allocation
and to put in some upmarket facilities.

It had all made sense to her.
Initial development must have cost the young Jarvis a huge amount of money. Yet
looking at the site now, no way could it be described as up-market. Where
indeed was Kevin leading with what, so far, had been no more than a bedtime
story?

‘Is this all relevant Kevin?’ she
asked. ‘I don’t think that I am all that interested in how this Arthur bloke
developed the site or how long it took him.’

‘It’s entirely relevant Joan,’ he
replied. ‘Just hear me out please.’

He had then gone on to explain
how Arthur had not developed all of his allocation for Green Fields because
setting up the infrastructure had been too costly, even with his father
bankrolling him. Phase three had never taken place. What existed when Peter
Archer had bought the site was only development as phases one and two. Which
meant that the general upgrades had not been done and, crucially, the site had
not been expanded onto the additional land.

‘But I don’t see how that can
be,’ she observed. ‘Where is this extra land supposed to be? Your car park is
bounded by the bottom road and the boundary at other side of your site is our
joint boundary. Where in heavens name is this extra land that Arthur Jarvis
didn’t expand onto?’

Which Kevin took as a cue to drop
his bombshell, explaining about the short-term free loan of land that had
become decidedly long term and the visual markers that enabled the true
boundary to be identified. Visibly shocked, Joan found the story too far
fetched to believe. If the story were to be true, why had her father not told
her? Indeed, why had he told her that his land went right up to the existing
boundary of the caravan site? Thinking back she could not remember any time
when her father had ever said that the boundary of his land had not been the
common boundary with Peter’s caravan park.

Yet her nephew seemed more sure
of himself than she had ever seen him. Very confident. This would need careful
management if his outlandish claims were to be rejected. And they must be of course.
Jarvis must have been hallucinating – though for what motive she could
not imagine – and she doubted that any word description of the boundaries
or plan actually existed. Kevin had gone to fix another coffee and when he
returned she would simply reject his suggestions and advise him that in the
absence of any documented evidence, if he wished to continue on his improbable
course then he would have to follow her solicitor’s advice and engage surveyors
to plot the whole site accurately. And since he did not have the money for
that, the silly idea would die.

As she looked up, Kevin returned
to the table and gently placed two documents onto the table in front of her.
One was a very detailed description signed by four people; she recognised her
father’s signature among them. The other, a much larger sheet, was a detailed
plan.

Oh shit!

Twenty-Nine

Turning off the country road, Fraser parked the
unmarked Vauxhall police car, and turned off the ignition. ‘Not the most
attractive place to come for your holidays is it?’ he remarked to Debbie
Lescott
.

‘I don’t think that that is the
market they are targeting,’ she replied. ‘It’s more the private caravan owner
coming every weekend and a few residential owners.’

As they talked, the door of a
shabby looking wooden building opened and a middle-aged woman came out followed
by a younger man. Standing talking, the woman seemed agitated, illustrating
virtually everything she said with body movements. From the expression on her
face and the frantic way she was waving her arms, pointing her finger and then
placing both hands on her hips in defiance, the conversation did not seem to be
going in her favour. In contrast, with his hands firmly stuffed into his
pockets and feet well planted slightly apart, the young man seemed quite
relaxed, saying little but displaying a slight smile tinged with obvious
sadness.

As they watched, the woman turned
away, walked a few metres to a car, and with the wheels throwing up a flurry of
gravel, drove out of the car park.

‘Well now, what do you make of
that?’ asked Fraser as he opened his door.

‘We’ll soon see,’ replied
Lescott
, ‘Kevin’s seen us. I wonder if we will get a
coffee?’ Reaching the door where Kevin Archer was waiting for them, she made
the introductions.

‘Yes sergeant,’ he said, ‘I
remember you from a couple of days ago. What can I do for you this time, have
you caught my father’s killer yet?’

After admitting that as of yet,
no, they had not charged anybody with Peter Archer’s death,
Lescott
got right to the point, asking him if he knew a Rick Worth. Kevin Archer had
been surprised at her abruptness, as she had anticipated, but didn’t seem
ruffled. Yes, he knew Rick. In fact, Rick was a mate and he saw him at least
once a week, sometimes more. When pressed he confirmed that sometimes they met
for a pint at a local pub or in Southport, but that mostly Rick came to the
caravan park.

‘Hey,’ exclaimed the young man.
‘What is this? Has the bloody fool been done for drink driving or something?’
Then looking at their non committal expressions, added, ‘Or speeding perhaps in
one of the fancy cars he brings?’

‘
Lescott
and Fraser exchanged glances.

‘Perhaps we could go inside Mr
Archer,’ suggested Fraser.

‘Oh, of course, this way,’ he
said turning back into the reception building. ‘Would you like a tea or coffee?
I made one for my aunt before she left so the water is still warm and won’t
take long to boil.’

Over their drinks they
established an easy rapport with the young man. For one so recently bereaved he
struck them both as being remarkably self-assured and positive in his outlook.
Perhaps that was the reason. Having previously lost his mother and now his
father, not forgetting that dad had also been his boss, Kevin had either to
grasp the metal and take responsibility in his hands or sink in a sea of
melancholy. The lad seemed to be doing OK.

Kevin Archer had come across as a
genuine sort of guy. Fraser had mentioned the possibility of there being a link
between car thefts and the person or persons responsible for his father’s death
and
Lescott
asked when Rick Worth had last been at
the caravan park. His response to the two-pronged attack had been quite
predictable. He was confused at the two different lines of questioning and
didn’t see the relevance. Turning to
Lescott
he told
her that he had not seen his friend Rick for several days, then for Fraser’s
benefit added that his father had been a car enthusiast so did come in contact
with other car mad people. They all were actually, his dad had always tinkered
with cars, Rick was something of a car fanatic and although Kevin himself
couldn’t afford anything better than the old Toyota pickup at the moment, he
also was a car enthusiast. Quite what car thefts had to do with his dad he
could not imagine.

The young man seemed genuinely
surprised when told that his friend was in hospital. Deliberately leaving out
where he had been found,
Lescott
just said that the
unfortunate Mr Worth had had an accident while working under a car and was
unconscious in hospital.

‘That’s incredible,’ replied
Archer. ‘Rick does his foreigners here. He should have come yesterday but
didn’t turn up.’

‘Perhaps he does some jobs
elsewhere,’ suggested Fraser.

‘No, I’m pretty certain he
doesn’t,’ replied Kevin. ‘He works at the JLR plant so can’t do anything there
and dad let him use our workshop whenever he wanted.’

‘What, for free?’ said a
surprised
Lescott
.

‘Well, sort of on barter. He
works on dad’s van and my pickup and we call it quits.’

With a puzzled expression, Kevin
considered what he had been told, what he was being asked and the scant details
he had been given. Why was he being questioned? When the police had arrived he
had hoped that there might be some news on his father’s killer. The strange
questions he had been asked hadn’t filled him with confidence and from what he
could see, the police were in fact no further forward. That his father might
have been involved in some sort of car theft was too far fetched to be
believed. But he supposed that some of the people known by his father might
have had their murkier sides.

But what was going on with Rick?
It was unusual for him not to turn up when he had arranged to use the workshop
and for him to have hurt himself under a car was unthinkable. Rick was very
safety conscious. Not only that, if he was unconscious it must have been a
serious accident. So what could have happened? Could a car have fallen on him?
Well no, of course not. Rick would never work on a car propped up on bottle
jacks or bricks. And why would the police be interested if it had been a
genuine accident?

Neither officer was saying
anything. Clearly they were watching him for some tell tale clue. But why? What
did he know? Then an awful thought passed his mind. What if somebody his father
knew was involved in car theft? And what if that somebody also knew Rick? Was
there a link between his father’s death and Rick’s injury?

Well of course there wasn’t. That
was just stretching things too far.

‘You’ve got me very confused,’ he
said. We don’t know everything about our friends and acquaintances do we, so I
suppose that somebody we know might be involved in something unsavoury. But dad
wouldn’t have known about it I am sure. As for Rick, I don’t see the connection
I am afraid.’

‘We are not saying that there’s a
connection,’ responded Fraser. ‘Rick might know somebody involved with car
thefts and in a roundabout way they might have got to know your dad. That
doesn’t mean that either your dad or Rick are involved but it could give us a
lead on who killed your dad.’

‘It’s a bit of a long shot,’
added
Lescott
, ‘but we desperately need to get some
answers.’

‘That’s right,’ contributed
Fraser. ‘What sort of jobs does Rick do in your workshop? Does he bring cars
here for servicing and repair, with payment into his back pocket?’

‘Like I said, he services our van
and pickup, but we don’t pay him. I’ve never seen him servicing other cars
though.’

‘So if he isn’t doing servicing,
what does he do exactly?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea
sergeant. He brings fancy cars here, puts them on the ramp in our workshop and
spends a couple of hours on them but I’ve never seen him doing the normal
service jobs – you know, doing an oil change or fitting new spark plugs.’

‘I’m not sure I follow,’ said
Lescott
. ‘Mr Archer, can we just have a look at the
workshop? It might give us an idea.’

Kevin hadn’t seemed to have any
reservations about taking them into the workshop. He had been more than happy
to reminisce about his father’s karting days at the Three Sisters track and the
various classic cars his dad had restored in the workshop. There wasn’t a lift,
just an old fashioned ramp with a pit. Going from memory,
Lescott
thought that while perhaps one or two sets might be missing, more than half a
dozen pairs of registration remained on the wall. Kevin claimed not to know
anything about them. They had been there a couple of years or so but Rick had
never said why he had them. It just hadn’t been a topic of conversation.

Looking around the workshop,
Fraser ran his hand along the edge of a worktop, opened a few drawers and
picked a mall component up, commenting that he had always had an interest in
cars and that it would have been a dream come true to have his own workshop.
Kevin had understood. He himself had always wanted to build his own car, not a
kit car but one of his own design. He had never had the funds to be able to do
it but hopefully he might at some point in the future.

Lescott
took the cue to add her own automotive views.
She wasn’t an enthusiast herself but her friend was and she thought that he
also would like to build his own car. Whether that would be a kit car or one of
his own design she did not know, but it was all academic because he hadn’t got
a workshop.

……….

DC Louise Green looked at the
notes scribbled on the pad in front of her. The nice lady in the HR department
at the car factory had been very helpful but had not been able to find any
trace of a Rick Worth. Having checked the complete employee roster she had
drawn a blank.

Following a hunch, Louise had
then asked her whether it was possible to check how many employees had not
turned up for work over the last week, and of those, which were still not at
work. Yes it was possible, just a couple of keyboard clicks in fact. That
initial search had thrown up a dozen names, reducing to four for those still
not at work. After discounting two female employees who obviously did not fit
the description, just two names remained, one English and one Polish. The
Polish employee was named as
Cyrec
Krawiec
, which from the case board Louise could see was the
name of the second victim who had been found in the car. The English employee
was more interesting. Patrick Ainsworth could, with a little stretch of the
imagination, be shortened to Rick Worth, although Louise would have expected
him to be known as Pat or Paddy.

Although it was really stretching
things to end up with Rick Worth from Patrick Ainsworth, they did know that
although there was no Rick Worth employed at the plant he did work there and
that Patrick Ainsworth suddenly bunking off work fitted exactly with Rick Worth
being pulled from under the Bentley. That
Krawiec
was
an associate also employed at the plant forged more links that couldn’t be
ignored.

But it would all fall apart if
Patrick Ainsworth were not to be Rick Worth. Louise had asked if the plant kept
ID photos of their employees. Apparently not for all the workforce, but in some
cases yes. The HR lady would check.

……….

Following the traffic as it
flowed from Parliament Street into The Strand, Don Radcliffe glanced across to
the buildings on his left, once a downtrodden scruffy collection of dockland
buildings that had fallen into disuse around weed infested disused docks. It
had taken several decades, but the empty decrepit complex had been transformed
into the tourist attraction that was the present day Albert Dock and Maritime
Museum. And that had underpinned the modern additions that now flanked the
dock; the Echo Arena, venue for pop concerts and flamboyant theatre, and the
cruise liner terminal where the world’s biggest ships berthed at the Pier head.