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Authors: Peter Turnbull

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BOOK: Gift Wrapped
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‘He attacked someone with a knife?' Yellich clarified.

‘Yes.' Edwards nodded. ‘It would have been a murder if he had succeeded.'

‘You didn't report it?' Yellich was surprised. ‘A crime like that, even if it was only attempted ... ?'

‘No, no I didn't.' Edwards explained, ‘You see, the crew were all ex-cons who only worked for cash in hand. A few had warrants out on them. Men like that ... well, they have their own way of sorting things out. No one was hurt except Bond, who got exactly what was coming to him, then he left and didn't return. So we handled it ourselves and kept the police out of it. I reckon if I had called the police when Shane Bond returned with the knife my workforce would have taken to the hills.' Edwards glanced into the middle distance. ‘It made good sense to handle it like that, to keep a lid on it.'

‘Fair enough, but it's quite interesting he picked up a knife,' Yellich pondered. Then he said, ‘So Shane Bond knew the layout of this site?'

‘Oh, yes.' Edwards nodded gently. ‘He helped build it ... he should know the layout of the fishery all right.'

‘I mean, he knew his way around it?' Yellich clarified.

‘Every inch, I would say,' Edwards replied. ‘Every inch. He was with us towards the end of the project, you see.'

‘And he'd know about the pile of rubble at the bottom end of the fishery?'

‘I would think so,' Phil Edwards replied with a wide grin. ‘He built it. What happened was that when we had built the road and separated the ponds there were a lot of stones lying about, so I asked light-work Shane to go over the site picking up rocks that were lying about here and there and put them in a pile at the end of the fishery. He used the wheelbarrow, him and his bad back, carrying just two or three stones in the barrow at a time. He could manage that sort of weight. It was about then, when pretty much all the loose stones had been collected, that he picked a fight with Big Mick Delaney from Donegal.'

The attention of both men was drawn to a red and white Riley circa 1947 which drove up to the fishery and halted behind the police minivan. It was followed by a white Ford carrying two men. A slender woman in her forties got out of the Riley carrying a brown Gladstone bag, and wound down the window of her car to allow the interior of the vehicle to ‘breathe' in the sun. She then closed the car door gently and walked towards the entrance to the fishery. The men got out of the Ford and, by contrast, wound up the window of the car. They donned yellow ‘high visibility' vests and also walked towards the fishery carrying square black suitcases.

‘The lady is the pathologist,' Yellich told Edwards. ‘The two men are SOCO.'

‘SOCO?' Edwards asked, sounding to Yellich to be genuinely interested.

‘Scene of crime officers – they take photographs of crime scenes.'

‘Interesting,' Edwards mumbled. ‘Police work fascinates me.'

‘So Bond built the pile of rocks?' Yellich confirmed, turning to face Dr D'Acre as she approached.

‘Yes, as I said.' Edwards stood in deference to Dr D'Acre. ‘It is, was and still is, all his own work.'

‘I'd like to take a statement from you to that effect and also a statement about the knife attack on the Irishman,' Yellich advised Edwards.

‘Well, it was hardly an attack,' Phil Edwards explained. ‘I mean, Shane Bond was seeing stars before he could do anything. Big Micky was about to drop a rock on his head but he was stopped by another boy who said, “We don't want the police here, Micky”. So Big Micky left Shane Bond alive. But yes, I'll give the police a statement with pleasure.'

‘Afternoon, ma'am,' Yellich addressed Dr D'Acre when she closed in on his personal space. ‘I'll take you to the corpse.' Then he turned to Edwards. ‘We'll have to take possession of the fishery until ... well, certainly for the remainder of the day,' Yellich explained. ‘And possibly tomorrow as well.'

‘Fair enough.' Edwards nodded. ‘Take all the time in the world. I think that I'll close the fishery for a week. It's the thing to do if a body has been on the site all the time. Yes, I'll shut it down for a week and then ask the minister to bless the site before I reopen it. I'll do that out of respect to the dead.'

‘As you wish, sir,' Yellich replied with a smile. He thought Phil Edwards' attitude was gracious and sensitive. After early concerns about the man's attitude to the caravan owners, he had grown to like him.

‘He's a worried man.' Bill Knight sipped his beer. ‘Someone was looking for him, a large, well-built guy he was – I mean, the guy who was looking for Henry was large and well built.'

‘Would you recognize this man again?' Carmen Pharoah asked.

‘I might.' Bill Knight scanned the lounge of the Empress. ‘I might,' he said again, looking downwards. ‘But it's a while ago now. A good long while.'

‘Did he say why he wanted to find Henry Hall?' Pharoah asked.

‘No, but it wasn't to tell him he'd won the lottery, that's for sure.' Bill Knight put his glass of beer down on the table top. ‘He was walking up and down the street, moving like a very angry man, looking at houses, and he stopped me and asked if I knew where Henry Hall lived. Of course I said “no”, then I told Henry about him and Henry looked scared. I mean, he was really frightened. White ... he went white. It was shortly after that he went missing. So why the police interest?'

‘Let's just say there has been a development,' Pharoah replied. ‘I'll have to take a statement from you and ask you to look at some photographs to see if you can identify the man in a line-up of people who are of similar appearance, allowing for them ageing.'

‘Oh, yes, I've seen that on television.' Bill Knight again sipped his beer. ‘Are we doing that now?'

‘Yes. I'll drive you in and return you home.'

‘Best finish my beer first.' Bill Knight took another sip. ‘I won't be long, miss, I won't be long. Just let me sink this. I usually take my time but I can drink it in a jiffy if I have to.'

Four men sat in upright chairs, two on each side of a polished pinewood table which stood against the wall. The floor of the room was covered in hard-wearing Hessian matting; the walls were painted a uniform shade of grey. The illumination for the room was provided by a filament bulb set in the ceiling behind an opaque Perspex sheet. The tape recorder was installed in the wall at the side of the desk, the twin cassettes spun slowly and a red light glowed, thus giving a clear indication to all present in the room that the machine was switched on and each word, each sound, was being recorded.

‘I am Detective Chief Inspector Hennessey,' Hennessey began. ‘The place is interview room three at Micklegate Bar Police Station in the city of York, the date is Friday, the second of June, the time is 16.33 hours. I am now going to ask the other persons present in the room to identify themselves for the purposes of the tape.'

‘Detective Sergeant Yellich of Micklegate Bar Police Station.'

‘Grant Joyner, Solicitor, of Ellis Burden Woodland and Lake and Co., of Saint Leonard's Place, York, representing Mr Bond.'

Shane Bond paused and glanced at Grant Joyner, who nodded, prompting Bond to say, ‘Shane Bond.' Bond spoke sullenly and looked downwards.

‘I'll be frank with you, Shane,' Hennessey began, knowing Bond's sullenness meant that it was going to be a long and difficult interview with information and concessions having to be prised out of the man. Both Hennessey and Yellich knew that Bond would not be giving anything away or carelessly tripping himself up. ‘The case against you is ... well, it's open and shut.'

‘Really?' Joyner peered at Hennessey over the rim of his spectacles. He was a young man, immaculately dressed in a dark blue pinstripe suit and a university tie. He reeked strongly of aftershave and proudly wore a wide gold wedding band. Grant Joyner was at least six feet tall, Hennessey guessed, and seemed to be muscular, as if, thought Hennessey, he was a skilled man in a particular sport of a strenuous nature.

‘Well, yes ...' Hennessey replied. ‘Yes, we think so. Your wife, Shane, your first wife, Gloria, has made a full confession about her part in the murder of Henry Hall, from enticing him to open his door to helping you bundle the body into your van; she also admits to helping you bury the body under a pile of stones at the fishery which you knew were there because you built the mound when you were working ashore because of a bad back. You punctured the stomach to let the gases escape, you threw top soil on the mound of stones to encourage the weeds to establish themselves and you had the motive because she was being unfaithful to you. You found out and beat the information out of her as to Henry Hall's address. Then with that information you went looking for him at his house and asked a neighbour, Mr Knight, where Henry Hall lived. Mr Knight picked you out of the identity parade just now as being the man who asked him where Henry Hall lived, as if to make certain of the address. You also have, or at least at the time had, a propensity for knives to settle scores. You had a fight at the fishery with an Irishman – you lost, and you returned later with a knife seeking your vengeance. You lost again and the owner of the fishery gave you the sack there and then.'

Bond looked at Joyner, who said in a soft-spoken and cultured voice, ‘It's a strong case, Mr Bond. It will be an uphill battle to convince a jury to acquit you. Two witnesses that will connect you to the murder of Mr Hall, a third witness who will connect you to the pile of stones. The motive, to want to harm Mr Hall for having an affair with your wife while you were at sea ... the knife attack on the Irishman at the fishery ... your later conviction for attempted manslaughter in the car park, sundry and other previous convictions, and all for acts of violence. It's not a hugely good place you're in.'

Shane Bond looked down at the floor, then he turned to Joyner and, quite unexpectedly for the officers who had anticipated a long and gruelling interview, he asked meekly, ‘So what can I do? What is the best thing to do?'

‘I'm afraid that there is not much you can do, Mr Bond,' Joyner replied, and as he did so Hennessey believed that he detected a trace of Welsh in the man's speaking voice. ‘We won't be able to negotiate a reduction of the charge to manslaughter because of the strong element of premeditation ...' Joyner looked at Hennessey for clarification.

‘No way,' Hennessey confirmed. ‘The Crown Prosecution Service will be charging Mr Bond with murder. I can guarantee there won't be a reduced charge in return for a guilty plea. Not in this case.'

‘Will you be charging Mrs Bond with conspiracy to murder?'

‘That decision is presently with CPS,' Hennessey replied diplomatically, ‘but she is prepared to give evidence in court against her ex-husband. He was and is a violent man and he was violent towards her. She has much ill-feeling towards your client.'

‘Will she make a credible witness, do you think?' Joyner probed. ‘Can she damage my client in the eyes of the jury?'

‘Yes,' Hennessey replied, feeling a pang of guilt as he misled Joyner. Gloria Bond was an alcoholic, she was a recovered heroin addict, she was mentally challenged and she could not stand in the witness box for more than five minutes without having to be allowed to run to the ladies' toilets. It was really up to Joyner to make his own assessment of Mrs Bond, Hennessey believed, but he also believed that the mild-mannered Henry Hall, council gardener, deserved justice. So he added, ‘Remember, she took us straight to the body – well, she didn't take us but she gave us perfect directions. Henry Hall's body was exactly where she said it would be and I feel sure that when we send divers down into the pond they'll find the spade and the murder weapon where she said Mr Bond, your client, threw them.'

Joyner sighed and took off his glasses. He rested his forehead on the fingertips of his right hand as his elbow rested on the table top. ‘I'm sorry, Mr Bond,' he turned to Shane, ‘I can't see a defence. I can't see a way out for you. It does indeed seem open and shut.'

‘What is the best thing to do?' Bond asked. ‘What can I do for the best?'

‘Plead guilty and throw yourself at the mercy of the court.' Joyner looked at Bond as he spoke. ‘You'll collect the nominal life sentence ... but if you work your ticket and you don't rock the boat when you're inside,' Joyner advised. ‘Well, then ...'

‘Yes, I know the score.' Bond nodded. ‘I know how that ball bounces.'

‘Don't just work towards an early parole but also work towards being classified from Category A to Category B or C. It's just the way of it,' Joyner further advised, ‘because of their show of remorse and their total cooperation, murderers have in the past worked their way to open prisons which are ...'

‘Holiday camps,' Bond snarled. ‘So I hear.'

‘So I hear also,' Joyner replied. ‘With a bit of luck and the right attitude you'll be out within ten years.'

Shane Bond buried his head in his hands and then after a pause he looked at Hennessey and said, ‘All right, I did it, you've got me for Henry Hall's murder. It went down exactly like Gloria told you and also for that reason ... she was playing away. I slapped the details out of her and went looking for Hall, but I couldn't find his house so I went back home and slapped her some more, and then I made her take me to his door. So show me ... where do I sign?'

‘You will note my client's cooperation?' Joyner insisted. ‘It must be taken into consideration at his parole hearings.'

‘Yes, yes, we'll write the statement for your lawyer here to read and if he agrees, you'll sign it,' Hennessey advised. ‘And we will record your cooperation.'

‘Do I get bail?' Bond asked. ‘I have things to tidy up.'

‘Not for murder, Shane, but look at it this way: your life sentence starts now, from the moment we charge you, not from the moment you are convicted at your trial, which could be eighteen months from now. It will be nearer six months most likely; it depends on the backlog of cases to be heard. So you're already on your way to your first parole hearing, already on your way to the Category B prison. Now ...' Hennessey paused, ‘one murder out of the way, let's talk about the other.'

BOOK: Gift Wrapped
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