Death on High (The Lakeland Murders) Page 13

  ‘How’s the car? I could hear it all the way from Carlisle’ laughed Brockbank.

  ‘Yeh, I must get a more sensible exhaust on it. It does draw attention to itself a bit more than I’d like.’

  ‘We’ll take mine then. I’ve got a little trip planned if you’ve nothing on for an hour.’ Mann shrugged. ‘Good. When we’ve finished these I want to take you to show you the next job in daylight, I thought it would help. Anyway, I’ll tell you about it in the car. So what have you been up to then, Gary?’

  ‘This and that. You know.’

  ‘Yeh, I heard.’

  Mann nodded. So Brockbank had heard that he’d been on the copper wire theft with Spedding. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. Maybe Brockbank wasn’t entirely freelance, and maybe there was a connection between him and Spedding. It was entirely possible, and it could be really helpful, but Mann still found himself hoping that there wasn’t. Mann sipped his drink, and waited for Brockbank to speak again.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought that you and Joey Spedding would be mates.’

  Mann shrugged. ‘We’re not.’

  ‘How did you meet him then?’

  ‘In a pub in Carlisle.’

  ‘Really, just by co-incidence like?’

  ‘Pretty much, yeh.’

  ‘I heard you got him some DEFRA paperwork too. How did you come by that? You’re not what I’d call a country boy Gary.’

  Mann was starting to feel less comfortable. ‘What is this Ben, a quiz show? A bloke I know works for DEFRA and he owed me a favour, that’s all.’

  ‘Does he still owe you a favour, this bloke?’

  ‘Not really, but I could always ask.’ Mann grinned. ‘What is it you want?’

  ‘Cattle passports. Not essential, but useful. And since you’ll be driving the truck it’d be you that benefitted.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Twenty would do it.’

  ‘OK, leave it with me.’

  They finished their drinks and walked to Brockbank’s car. Mann expected him to drive fast, but he was still taken by surprise. Brockbank knew the lanes intimately, and he drove the Subaru like he stole it. Mann tried to look relaxed, and failed. Brockbank laughed.

  ‘What’s the point having one of these if you don’t enjoy it?’

  Eventually they reached an A road, and Mann recognised it as the A65, east of Kirkby Lonsdale somewhere. Brockbank slowed down to the speed limit.

  ‘Make sure you remember this turning up ahead, OK? We go left here.’

  Brockbank turned and drove slowly up the lane for about a mile, checked his mirror and slowed right down. ‘In there. Will you be OK driving a wagon down that drive?’

  ‘No problem, assuming I can get turned in the yard.’

  ‘Yeh, you can. Have you ever driven with livestock on board?’

  ‘Yes, but only Marines.’

  Brockbank laughed. ‘This will be much the same then. Don’t drive too fast, keep it smooth, and corner nice and slow. It’s what a copper would expect to see, and it’s only fair to the beasts.’

  Once a farmer, always a farmer, though Mann. Brockbank seemed to read his thoughts.

  ‘I know they’re going to slaughter, but there’s no point stressing them, is there?’

  ‘So where am I going after?’

  ‘I’ll show you.’ Brockbank accelerated away, turned at a lane end, and drove back past the track. Mann could see cattle sheds down there, but no signs of a farmhouse.

  ‘So there’s no-one around here at night?’

  ‘That’s right. This ground belongs to one of the supermarket chains now, and no-one lives on site.’

  Mann nodded. It made sense as a target. First, because the risk of detection seemed small, but also because it just seemed like the kind of target that Brockbank would choose. Mann just couldn’t imagine him stealing from a place like his dad’s.

  Back on the A65 they carried on west for a mile or two, then Brockbank turned right.

  ‘Concentrate now Gary, because this is the route that you’ll need to follow all the way to Bradford.’

  ‘Can’t I use a sat-nav?’

  ‘Don’t be daft, it would never take you this way, unless it has an option for a route that is ideal when you’re out on the rob.’

  ‘I take your point’ said Mann.

  ‘It’s about forty five minutes in the truck, but we’ll do it in thirty.’

  ‘What do I say if I get stopped?’

  ‘That you broke down, and have to get the stock to the slaughterhouse for the morning. The truck will be legal, and if your DEFRA mate comes through with a bit of paperwork I reckon you’ll be able to talk your way out of it. But it won’t happen. What are the chances of seeing a copper out here, at any time of the day or night?’

  ‘OK, so I’m taking them to slaughter. Where shall I say?’

  ‘Don’t unless you have to, but if you do then say it’s Burton’s in Bradford.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not going to come to that, OK.’

  ‘Fine. I reckon I look like a truck driver anyway.’

  ‘You, my friend, look more like a copper. Must be all that time on the army job, eh?’

  ‘Yes, sir’ said Mann, laughing. He still didn’t really think that he had anything to worry about.

  They drove on in silence, Brockbank showing him where to turn, and which villages to head for. Then they reached the edge of Bradford, started down some narrow terraced streets, and Brockbank showed him the back entrance into the abattoir. He let the car idle as he spoke. ‘The gates will be opened for you marrer, so just drive straight in. Of course you’re more likely to see a copper when you get into town but don’t worry too much if you do get stopped. They’re all city lads, Blackpool will be their idea of the great outdoors, so just show them your paperwork, give it the breakdown story and they’ll soon let you go. They wouldn’t know one beast from another, and there’s no chance they’d want to look in the back. They’d be worried they’d get covered in piss for a start.’ Brockbank drove on, turned down a side street of terraced houses, and parked the car. ‘Come on, there’s someone who wants to meet you, Gary.’

  For almost the first time since he’d started the assignment Mann felt really on edge, absolutely tingling, but he didn’t mind. In a way he’d missed that feeling, and he knew how to make the fear work to his advantage. And as they walked into the small office building near the entrance to the slaughterhouse complex he felt absolutely alert, registering every movement, every sound and every detail around him.

  He relaxed when he saw staff working at their desks. They were definitely honest working folk, and if anyone intended to do him harm they’d have avoided letting him pass half a dozen witnesses. But he was still on his guard when Brockbank knocked on an office door, without a name plate, and led Mann in. The office was a mess, with thick files piled up everywhere, and half a dozen polystyrene coffee cups on the desk.

  The man sitting behind the desk didn’t get up, and for a moment Mann wondered if he could. He was massively overweight, folds of fat overwhelming most of the armrests on his red office chair. Mann could hear his laboured breathing from the doorway.

  ‘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 whit
ed 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.