Payback Page 26

  The latest newspaper article, already live on the internet, was sent to the incident room from the press office the next morning. It was interesting, as was the note attached from Connie. ‘I don’t know if you’ve seen this, but it mentions Danny Ray’s meeting with Divisional Commander Roper. It’s not a bad human-interest story, but the ending leaves a lot to be desired.’

  Charley was pleased to see that the piece was minus a picture of the injured DC.

  ‘“What confidence does it give us, the general public, if no matter what resources they throw at finding the perpetrator, the police still can’t find the person who mowed down one of their own?”’ she read out. ‘Twat! Well, maybe now Roper will see what an untrustworthy person he is, and have a word in his editor’s ear,’ said Charley.

  ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath. I’ve just seen the pictures of last night’s dinner at the golf club showing him and Roper together,’ said Connie.

  ‘Danny plays golf?’

  ‘Danny Ray’s the Chairman!’

  Since Myers had been arrested and charged, no more bodies had been discovered, but there had been the attempt on Wilkie’s life. A fifty per cent success rate on the murder investigations was not good enough for Charley, even if the Divisional Commander was satisfied enough to be calling back the staff he had loaned to the incident room. ‘If the muscle of the team has gone, what is the likelihood of the brains striking again?’ he’d said, having called her in to his office.

  ‘I’m not willing to take that chance, sir. Are you?’ asked Charley. ‘We need every last piece of the jigsaw in place to get the Is dotted and the Ts crossed in the prosecution file.’

  ‘The brains behind the operation have beaten you. Why can’t you accept that? The money’s gone, the budget’s spent; you’ve had your fun trying to catch the culprit, but now I want you to start to scale down the enquiry.’

  Charley spluttered, confused, before bursting into laughter. When Roper’s face remained emotionless, she shook her head in disbelief. She stood up as if to leave, then changed her mind. Leaning forward she put her palms down on his desk and looked him squarely in the eye.

  ‘You really don’t give a shit, do you? Not about the job, not about the victims – not even about the officer under your command who’s lying injured in a hospital bed. You only care about one thing: your blasted budgets!’ She watched him recoil as far away from her as was possible in his big, comfortable leather chair. Then, much to her surprise, he suddenly stood up and, leaning over her, he crooked his forefinger under her chin and grasped it tightly.

  ‘I said, leave it! Do you hear me?’

  She drew back, alarmed.

  ‘Leave it? Leave what? Leave the murderer to get away with it? Not bloody likely!’

  Her cheeks flame red, Charley spun on her heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. She hurried down the stairs, almost ran through the incident room and, closing her office door behind her, dropped shakily into the chair behind her desk before letting out a shuddering sigh.

  ‘What on earth had just happened in Roper’s office? She had been insubordinate, but he had seriously overstepped the mark, and for what reason? This was more than just concern over his budgets.’

  Her eyes turned to the hard-working group beyond her door and her heart sank. She’d let the team down. How was she going to break the news to them?

  The door opened and Annie walked in, bearing a welcome pot of steaming coffee. ‘You look like you could do with this,’ she said.

  Charley raised her head and smiled wanly as Annie approached the desk. ‘Why? Is there a double brandy in it?’ she asked, reaching out for the mug.

  Annie’s smile faded as she became aware of the seriousness of Charley’s expression. ‘That bad?’

  Charley nodded and leant back in her chair. She covered her face with her hands and let out a mighty groan. ‘Roper has instructed me to scale it down,’ she said.

  Annie bit down on her lower lip, her forehead wrinkled. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘And there’s nothing we can do about it?’

  ‘Not unless we can come up with something to up the ante.’

  ‘You mean like new lines of enquiry?’

  Charley nodded. ‘That’d do for starters.’

  A spark of light glimmered in the younger woman’s eyes. ‘Well,’ she began eagerly, perching on the edge of the chair opposite Charley, ‘then you might be pleased to hear that we’ve had a call into the incident room from a Mrs Sykes who, after reading Danny Ray’s article, thinks she might be able to help us with our enquiries.’

  ‘Go on.’ Charley sat forward.

  ‘Apparently, she’d been travelling on the road, on her way to a funeral, at approximately the same time that Wilkie got knocked down that day. She recalls a grey Golf being driven at speed in the opposite direction. And she also remembers seeing a man of Wilkie’s description standing on the kerb by the telephone box that she had passed moments earlier.’

  Annie paused for a moment. ‘I must confess, the fact that Mrs Sykes said the man was smartly dressed almost threw me,’ the young detective allowed herself a little chuckle. ‘Bet that’s the first time anyone has ever said Wilkie looked smart…’ she paused again and appeared to be weighing up the odds ‘…but then again, I guess he was wearing a suit. It made her wonder if he was going to the funeral too, because she questioned whether she might know him. All good for us!’

  Charley could feel her heart racing. ‘Anything else she could tell us?’ she asked, taking a sip of coffee.

  ‘She remembered at the time she had her window open; she’d been feeling warm and a little flustered as she’d been rushing around, taking the grandchildren to school and calling at the doctors for her father’s prescription. She says she distinctly heard a loud thud, like a clap of thunder, but didn’t think anything more of it at the time, as getting to the funeral was uppermost in her mind. Apparently, she hates being late for anything.’

  Charley raised an eyebrow.

  ‘So, Danny might have done us a favour by writing the article,’ Annie said, ‘because it wasn’t until she saw his derogatory comment regarding the police, and she said she was so very grateful for our help when she was recently burgled, that the memory came to her.’

  ‘I guess a unit has been dispatched to see her and to obtain a full statement?’

  ‘On their way.’

  Two hours later, Charley was reading Mrs Sykes’s statement which was accompanied by a brief report from DC Nicky McDonnell, attending.

  ‘Mrs Sykes is adamant about the type of car she saw. She owns a VW Polo and last month she visited the garage where the salesman tried to get her to upgrade to a Golf, even insisting she sat inside one. Hence her confidence in her ability to identify the vehicle concerned.

  ‘She will testify to there being only one male driver present in the vehicle, who was not a young boy racer – her words. All she could tell me about the speed of the vehicle was that it was going fast and the roar of the engine gave her the impression that the driver was accelerating at the time it passed.

  ‘Her timeline is very specific as she was on her way to attend a funeral, had dropped the grandchildren off and had been to the doctors. The latter two can be verified by CCTV.’

  At the mention of the grey Golf, Charley’s mind veered off in another direction. As far as she was aware, Danny Ray didn’t drive a Golf; she felt a flutter of panic. She must stop being blinkered, immediately. She picked up the phone and spoke to Connie, passing her the details she’d been given so she could put them out to the media with further appeals to see if anyone could add to this new information.

  The warm croissant on the cardboard tray and the now cooling latte were forgotten when Wilkie Connor’s accident file was handed to her. The team had kept up the roster for visiting their colleague, but, as yet, he was still unable to recall what had happened on that fateful day, or offer any information as to the person who had kno
cked him down and subsequently left him for dead. Nor did he recall any of the information he had promised in his note to her, regarding the death of her beloved horse, Eddie.

  She plucked the pictures out of the folder one by one. His injuries at the time had been photographed and documented and, as she read the statement of the officer first at the scene, it turned her stomach – not just because of the terrible injuries sustained, but because she was reading about one of her own officers, and the accident had been recorded by someone who knew the detective well. She revisited the images and her mind mulled over the crime scene from the point of view of the officers when they first arrived there. So intense was her concentration – her prayer that something would be glaringly obvious, even though she’d looked at them a hundred times before – that she was only vaguely aware of someone hovering in her office doorway and of a thin muttering of voices.

  Connie broke her reverie when she entered the office and sat opposite her. ‘Wilkie Connors’ accident file?’

  Charley nodded and pointed to a picture. ‘This illustrates how the incident looked to the attending officers at the time. If there had been any witnesses to the accident, these show the scene from where they would have seen it.’

  ‘The witnesses’ point of view is taken to enhance the credibility of witness recall when testifying, in some cases years later, presumably?’

  ‘Yes. And because the scene may change in the intervening weeks, months or years. People forget overall details, as much as they think the images are imprinted on their minds. Photos show the placement of any vehicles, the trees in their current stage of foliage and the approximate lighting and can contribute later to a more accurate recounting of the incident as it happened.’

  ‘And human memory is elastic; it changes as other factors influence it,’ said Connie.

  ‘Absolutely, so filming the scene of a crime incident can be a very valuable tool in the investigation as well, as it defines the Force’s response.’

  Connie scoffed. ‘In my experience, it can also hurt your case in court should mistakes be made inadvertently while completing the recording.’

  ‘That’s true. Investigators and administrators are quick to suggest, though, or even order an officer who has just been through a significant violent event, that he or she re-enacts the steps leading to the Force response.’

  ‘No way,’ Connie looked horrified.

  Charley drew back from her with a scowl. ‘Yes, but in my experience it’s almost impossible to portray the dynamics of the incident accurately via an informal walk-through of the events soon after they happened, much less weeks or months later.’

  Laid out in front of them were the pictures of Wilkie’s head injuries and the severe bruising.

  ‘He was very lucky,’ said Connie.

  ‘He certainly was. I need to start looking at his home security for when he is released. In fact, I need to have a word with the Divisional Commander to see how he sees that happening.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘Why what? Do you mean why do I think Roper will offer anything useful towards my predicament, or why does Wilkie need security?’

  ‘Need security,’ Connie said, concerned.

  ‘A serious attempt was made on his life. Who’s to say they won’t try again?’

  ‘Hmm…’ she said, thoughtful. ‘Well, if it’s Roper you want, I’d save your legs. He’s holding the monthly divisional management meeting this afternoon and I must say the buffet lunch that’s just been delivered looks fit for a king!’ And, with that, Connie bade Charley farewell and left her alone.

  The talk of food made Charley look at the croissant and, picking it up between finger and thumb, she considered it closely. The butter had congealed. Her stomach grumbled as if her brain had somehow told it that it was empty. With no chance of a gap in her day to get out for a sandwich, she closed her eyes, took a bite and, shivering slightly, gulped down the remainder of the cold latte. She swallowed hard, crumpled the empty paper cup in her hand, took a deep breath and tossed the remainder of the pastry in the bin.

  She turned her mind back to the enquiry. DNA had been lifted from the teacup that Danny Ray had used in the meeting, together with fingerprints. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and the rest was in the hands of the relevant departments examining both. For now, there was nothing she could do but wait.

  Mike Blake greeted her to discuss the health of the database in respect of the ongoing investigations. Ultimately, the murder file would be created using statements and reports. She was eager to ensure they were up to speed with recording, and retaining the ability to reveal under data protection regulations, issues for disclosure. Absolutely everything would be revealed to the defence unless it might jeopardise someone’s life, but the reason for non-disclosure had to be recorded and the trial judge made aware.

  The meeting was also about workloads, outstanding matters that still needed a resolution and by how much the expenditure was over budget at that point in time.

  The volume of work the computers held, and the ability for them to cross-reference quickly, was still an enigma to her and she wondered how they’d coped in the past with just a card system. Charley had done her policy logs. Her personal reports were always completed, even when she was exhausted from what would most likely have been a twelve-hour or longer work day. They would be her bible in the days, weeks, months and perhaps years ahead when she was tasked with the job of giving evidence as the person in charge of the murder investigations. They recorded why she had decided, or why not, to pursue a particular line of enquiry. She flicked through the pages, each one timed and dated with her signature. They formed an overview of the structure and strategy of the investigations completed at the time, or as soon as possible thereafter.

  The audit over, she felt a little happier with the state of affairs. She would, however, be even happier with the second offender in custody. She returned to her office and sat down behind her desk. After a moment or two, she was pleased to see DC Ricky-Lee walk in with a warm drink in hand.

  ‘There you are, boss,’ he said.

  Charley eyed him suspiciously. ‘Where else would I be?’ She nodded her head towards the drinking vessel in his grasp and smiled. ‘Your appraisal due or something?’

  The detective smiled sheepishly. ‘No,’ he laughed. ‘Tattie was just on her way in with it, but I was on my way to find you so I intercepted. Forensics rang while you were with Mike. Apparently, they couldn’t get hold of you. They’ve had a hit on the DNA database with regards to the stranger rape on a Jean Weetwood. Could you ring them as a matter of urgency?’

  ‘Jean Weetwood? In West Yorkshire?’ For a moment, Charley was speechless. ‘That’s great news,’ she heard herself saying. Her stomach flipped.

  Ricky-Lee, chatted on regardless. ‘Of course, they’ll send the necessary formal report through, but I thought you’d like to know immediately who the match was for the DNA hit.’

  ‘You thought right,’ Charley said.

  Chapter 22

  Charley sat for a moment alone, quietly absorbing the information she had just received. Damn that man! Damn Danny Ray! Damn him for putting someone else through trauma – and damn her for not taking him to court, because if she had, then she might have saved this poor woman her ordeal. If a sample of blood was taken from every child born and went onto a database, and anyone entering the country had to give a DNA sample that was also subsequently put on to the same database, then there would be very few cold case enquiries to be investigated. Criminals would be identified instantly, and the immediate knock-on effect would not only save the country money, and police time, but also, more importantly, save lives as a direct consequence. And then there was the small problem of it being a breach of human rights…

  Tattie walked past her office door. Charley shouted for her to come in.

  ‘Tell Mike, Ricky-Lee and Annie I want them urgently for a meeting, please.’

  A few minutes later, behind closed doors, Cha
rley shared with her colleagues the recent update from Forensics. ‘We have a hit on the DNA database. It’s a cold case: the stranger rape of Jean Weetwood. It’s confirmed. Her attacker was Danny Ray.’

  Charley looked into their eyes, one by one. Annie was unbelieving, shocked, she thought she saw a tear. There was a pause. The three looked at her expectantly.

  ‘I had the cup that he handled at his meeting with the Divisional Commander sent off for DNA examination and fingerprinting. This is a direct result of those samples.’

  Charley knew she had been lucky, but she hadn’t realised just how lucky until now…

  Ricky-Lee whistled through the gap in his teeth. ‘What a bastard,’ he said.

  The others remained silent.

  ‘I still want the information we have on Danny Ray kept tight. We know he is – or should I say was – Solomon Myers’ landlord. We now know what he is capable of. There is no doubt he left Jean Weetwood for dead. What I want to know now is, is he our missing link in the recent murders? He has a degree in criminology, so the wrongfooting at the scenes could be right up his street. I’ve yet to speak to the fingerprint section, but, in the meantime, I want you to research and record everything we can possibly find out about him. His daily routine, his present address, the vehicles he has use of … We’ll reconvene in an hour and discuss our strategy to arrest him and the subsequent searches that will be necessary.