Steps to Heaven: A Sgt Major Crane Novel (6 page)

Chapter Ten

The following day Crane waited whilst everyone settled themselves at the briefing. He asked the Fire Officer to give his report first. He confirmed the initial suspicion that the seat of the fire was Sergeant Barnes himself. Evidence of an accelerant, most probably petrol was found. Crane wanted to know why the body was so badly charred. The Fire Officer explained that when a body burns, first the thin outer layers of skin fry and begin to peel off, as the flames dance across the surface. After a few minutes, the thicker dermal layer of skin shrinks and begins to split. This allows the underlying yellow fat to leak out. The clothes Sergeant Barnes was wearing then acted as a wick. This meant that the small pieces of cloth absorbed the fat and pulled it into the flames, where it vaporised and burned. In his opinion, for the body to be that badly burned in such a short period of time, the accelerant was most likely on the body itself, rather than close to it.

Major
Martin was next. He confirmed the body they found was that of Sergeant Barnes and his death had been caused by the fire. After a couple of low sniggers from somewhere in the room, which he completely ignored, he went on to explain that there was no evidence of gunshot wounds or stab wounds on the body. However, there was smoke damage to the throat and lungs indicating that Sergeant Barnes was alive when he was set on fire. His arms were raised and bent, most probably because the heat of the fire caused muscles to dry out and contract. This made the limbs move and adopt characteristic postures, such as the position they found Sergeant Barnes in.

Crane
broke the silence that followed by thanking the Fire Officer and the Major for their reports and they both left the meeting.

“Bloody
hell,” mumbled Billy, as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Bloody
hell indeed, lad,” agreed Jones.

“Right,
what else have we got, Jones?” Crane was determined they should get on with the job and not dwell on the horror of Sergeant Barnes’ death.

“Two
possible leads. Local kids on the garrison have been making a bit of a nuisance of themselves. Riding around on bikes and being a bit lippy. Sergeant Barnes was very upset about it and the more he tried to stop them, the more the kids took pleasure in winding him up.”

“How
do you know about this?”

“Barnes
made a couple of complaints to the RMPs, but to be honest we didn’t take him too seriously. Thought he was over reacting.”

“And
the second one?”

“As
you know Barnes was in charge of the stores at St Omar Barracks. He had suspicions about a couple of lads pilfering stuff. Nothing major, but again it wound him up. He gave us the nod, but without any evidence there wasn’t much we could do.”

“Barnes
seemed to get wound up a lot, wouldn’t you say?” observed Billy.

“Looks
that way,” agreed Crane. “Leave the details of those two cases with me would you, Jones?”

“But…”
Jones blustered, “is that really necessary? The lads and I can follow them up.”

“We’ll
look into them,” Crane said, emphasising each word as though Jones was either deaf or stupid. “This is a Branch investigation now.”

Mumbling
something under his breath, Jones left.

“If
I need you, I’ll let you know,” Crane called to Jones’ retreating back.

“I’ll
be off then as well,” DI Anderson said, attempting to control his flyaway hair by running a hand through it. “These two leads are about incidents on the garrison, so I’m happy to leave things with you, Crane.” Anderson stood. “But don’t forget to keep me in the loop. A charge of arson and possibly even murder could be the outcome of your investigation, which will put the responsibility firmly back with the police.”

“Understood,
Derek.”

Crane
and Billy then spent the rest of the day setting up their investigation and making sure everyone, including Staff Sergeant Jones, was fully briefed.

***

Crane decided to take the second allegation first, so the next morning they went to St Omer Barracks Stores at the appointed time of 10:00 hours. Looking through the glass in the large double entrance doors, they observed two men lounging around inside, chatting away and at times laughing out loud. Books and papers were scattered over the counter, but being studiously ignored. Both men looked untidy with creased uniforms, their hair just a bit too long. Crane put them both in their early 20’s.

“While
the cat’s away, eh?” said Crane as he opened the green swing doors.

The
two men jumped to attention, their faces suffused with embarrassment. By the fear on their faces, they had realised it was a visit from the Branch.

“Sir”
they called in unison.

“Tweedle
dum and tweedle dee, I take it?”

“Corporal
Potts, sir.”

“Lance
Corporal Mathews, sir.”

“That’s
what I thought. Billy stay here and talk to the Corporal would you whilst Lance Corporal Matthews and I have a chat outside.”

Crane
turned and walked out of the Stores without bothering to see if he was being followed. Once in the corridor, he turned on the young man.

“Right,
son, you know why we’re here I take it.”

“Sergeant
Barnes, sir?”

“You
catch on quick. But we’re also here about rumours of pilfering from the stores. Got a good business going on the side have you?” Crane nodded towards the closed doors of the Stores. “A bit here and a bit there, hoping no one would notice and then selling the stuff on.”

The
young Lance Corporal remained silent.

“That’s
what I thought,” said Crane, pulling his hands out of his coat pockets and rubbing his beard. Mathew’s eyes were riveted to the beard and the livid red gash just visible beneath the hairs. “Barnes had rumbled you, hadn’t he? So what did you decide to do about it? Maybe you just meant to frighten him by setting the back door on fire? Perhaps it was a warning that went wrong?”

Crane
was enjoying seeing Matthews uncomfortable. From being red in the face, his colour drained to grey, and his skin turned clammy as beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and he wiped his hands on his trousers.

“Sir,...no,
sir…” stammered Matthews. “I mean yes …to the pilfering, but not to anything else.”

“Well,
we’ll see. Staff Sergeant Jones and the RMP are just around the corner, waiting to take you into custody on suspicion of murder.”

“Jesus,”
Matthews whispered, forgetting about standing to attention and leaning against the painted wall for support, his voice rising as he blabbed, “I swear we never did it, you’ve got to believe me!”

They
both turned as Billy emerged from the stores, holding Corporal Potts by the arm. The young man’s wild eyes were swivelling around in their sockets, jumping from Crane to Matthews and back to Billy. He was also unable to stand and was leaning on Billy. Crane and Billy frogmarched the two young men outside, straight into the arms of the RMP, who wasted no time in cuffing them and bundling the two unfortunates into separate cars. Billy couldn’t resist waving goodbye as they were driven away.

With
the first part of their plan complete, Crane and Billy then made their way to Lille Barracks, to speak to the father of the kids causing trouble in the street. Aiming for maximum drama, they watched from the fringes of the parade ground for a moment, leaning against Crane’s Ford Focus, as Sergeant Hollins put his men through their paces. The air was still and heavy with thunderous clouds gathering high in the sky, the men’s boots on tarmac imitating the sound of the approaching storm. In the middle of a complicated wheeling routine, Billy slipped up to the officer in charge and had a quiet word in his ear. Captain’s voice rang loudly across the parade ground and the men came to a confused, straggling stop. Crane and Billy pulled Sergeant Hollins away, to the gaping astonishment of his men, to interview him in an empty office.

“What
the hell’s this all about,” Hollins demanded in a deep growling voice, his anger crackling like electricity, charging the air. He had a large frame and barrel chest and at over six foot, towered above Crane. “How dare you pull me off the parade ground.”

“Sit
down, Hollins,” barked Crane, wanting to gain the height advantage.

“No
need, I won’t be here that long. You lot don’t frighten me. I’ve done nothing to warrant an interview by the Branch,” he finished, glaring at them.

“Maybe
not, but your kids have,” began Crane.

“What?
What the hell are you talking about?”

“Heard
the news about Sergeant Barnes dying in a fire?”

Hollins
nodded. “It’s all over the garrison. But what’s that got to do with my kids?” Barnes tried to look nonchalant by sitting on the edge of the desk.

“They
seem to have known Barnes from what we hear.”

“Oh
that. Nothing but kids messing around.” Brown dismissed the remark with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Really?
Is that what you call setting fire to his house and burning him to death? Messing around?” Now it was Crane’s turn to get angry.

At
that point the Sergeant slithered off the desk and fell into the nearest chair.

“You
couldn’t seriously think that?” he cried, wide eyed in his horror.

“We
can and we do,” said Crane, “and you’ll do well to remember that you are responsible for your children, Sergeant. If they’ve done anything wrong, it’s you that gets busted as well. This isn’t ‘Civvy Street’ where parents can let their kids do whatever the hell they want.”

Sergeant
Hollins sank further in his chair, bewildered and crushed. Gone was the bluster and anger.

“So
I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” said Crane leaning over the table towards Hollins. “Have a nice little meeting later on today at your house. Say 17:00 hours. Make sure your kids are there and your wife if you like.”

“You
can’t do that!” Hollins started to spring from his chair but Crane’s next words stopped him.

“I
can do what the bloody hell I want. Remember your Commanding Officer knows we’re speaking to you, as do your men. Do you want them all to know how uncooperative you’re being? That you’re impeding a murder investigation?”

Slowly
Hollins shook his drooping head.

“Well
done, right answer,” said Crane straightening up. “I intend to get to the bottom of this, Hollins,” he warned.

They
left the Sergeant staring blankly at the wall.

John

22:55 Hours 23rd September

John
took
one
last
look
around
the
house
before
he
climbed
the
stairs
to
join
his
family
.
It
wasn’t
much
to
show
for
the
last
10
years
but
,
nevertheless
,
neat
and
clean
as
a
new
pin
,
just
as
he
always
insisted
.
Joan
fought
back
of
course
,
from
time
to
time
,
but
he
soon
kept
her
in
check
.
Let
her
rebel
while
he
was
away
,
as
long
as
she
toed
the
line
on
his
return
from
a
posting
.

Anyway
,
now
was
the
time
to
really
show
her
who
was
master
in
this
house
.
Nothing
and
nobody
-
certainly
not
Joan
-
was
going
to
keep
him
from
his
destiny
.
Because
it
wasn’t
just
his
destiny
,
it
was
also
his
son’s
.

In
the
past
he’d
dreamed
of
his
son
following
in
his
father’s
footsteps
.
Joining
the
army
.
Where
John
would
be
the
proudest
father
of
them
all
at
the
passing
out
parade
.
But
after
his
experiences
in
Afghanistan
,
John
was
no
longer
convinced
that
it
was
the
right
path
for
his
son
.
Visions
of
him
dying
in
Afghanistan
or
any
other
God
forsaken
country
,
for
a
cause
most
people
don’t
believe
in
,
flashed
through
his
mind
.
What
would
that
achieve
?
No
,
he
had
found
a
better
way
,
a
better
future
for
them
both
.
For
his
mentor
had
opened
his
eyes
,
his
heart
and
his
soul
.

Squaring
his
shoulders
,
he
stood
to
attention
in
front
of
the
full
length
mirror
in
the
hall
,
looking
carefully
at
his
reflection
.
Sergeant
John
Sergeant
.
The
butt
of
many
a
joke
.
But
he
had
shown
them
,
shown
them
all
,
by
attaining
the
rank
that
equalled
his
name
.
Front
line
man
,
not
afraid
of
dying
.
Not
then
and
not
now
.
A
soldier
of
Christ
,
ready
to
go
into
battle
.

He
had
already
spent
some
time
preparing
.
Sharpening
his
knife
whilst
repeating
his
mantra
.
Over
and
over
again
,
methodically
,
rhythmically
,
hypnotically
. ‘
Follow
the
will
of
the
lord
.
Follow
the
steps
to
Heaven
.
’
Now
he
was
ready
.

With
resolute
steps
he
mounted
the
stairs
and
halted
at
the
door
to
the
bedroom
he
shared
with
his
wife
.
After
drawing
his
knife
he
checked
his
watch
.
Three
minutes
to
23
:
00
hours
.

One
minute
later
he
was
back
in
the
hall
,
not
bothering
to
wipe
the
dripping
blood
off
the
knife
.
It
didn’t
matter
,
his
son
wouldn’t
see
it
in
the
dark
.
In
fact
the
only
thing
he
would
be
seeing
shortly
would
be
the
steps
that
they
will
both
be
climbing
.
The
steps
to
eternal
salvation
.
The
steps
to
Heaven
.
In
just
two
minutes
time
.