Riddled on the Sands (The Lakeland Murders) (4 page)

‘So what do you think he was doing here?’

Sam smiled, and Mann reckoned that he’d asked the right question. But the answer came as a disappointment.

‘Not a bloody clue. I can’t work it out, I really can’t.’

‘Maybe he was heading further out when something happened.’

‘Aye, that’s possible’ said Sam doubtfully. ‘But the tractor’s pointing across the Bay, look.’

‘Couldn’t the tide have turned it round, though?’

Sam shook his head. ‘I can’t be certain, but I think it would have just turned it over if that had happened. Looks to me like it just bogged down where it stopped, like.’

‘So you’re saying that you don’t understand what Jack was doing in this spot, and you can’t think of any reason for it?’

‘Aye, I suppose I am, aye.’

‘And you’d be happy to make a statement to that effect?’

‘Aye, I would.’

Mann nodded.

‘Do you think it’s worth us recovering Jack’s tractor for examination?’

Sam thought for a moment before he replied.

‘It would upset Betty, dragging it through the village.’

‘What if we covered it up?’

‘Then aye, it would be worth it. I expect your boffins could work out if the engine packed up, anything like that. But I bet it didn’t. Sweet as a nut, that old Nuffield. And I’ve checked the tank already. It is three parts full.’

‘How old is it then, the tractor?’

‘Older than me, and I’m thirty five. But it would go on for ever, that old tractor would.’

‘Have we got time to get it out this tide?’

‘Aye, but only if we all get digging. Do you like digging, Sergeant?’

Half an hour later the tractor was free, and the little convoy was leaving the sands. Mann was pleased that he’d shifted more than his share of sand, even his hands were blistered. He’d enjoyed the exercise, it made him feel sharper somehow.

Before they’d left the sands he’d called Ray and asked him to arrange for a low-loader to collect the tractor.

‘And Ray, make sure that they’ve got some tarps to tie down over it.’

‘Worried about losing evidence?’

‘No, I don’t want the widow to see it.’

‘Got you.’

‘And Ray, when I get back I want to have five minutes with Betty, the widow, and also a quick chat with this bloke Pete Capstick.’

‘Can’t we do it tomorrow, Ian? Our shift was over half an hour ago.’

‘There’s a pie and a pint in it for you on the way home.’

‘That’s what I like. A bit of Police corruption. You’re on, mate.’

When they reached the shore Mann checked his phone and saw that he’d missed a call from Andy Hall. He could guess what it would be about.

‘Andy, it’s me.’

‘I hear you’re having Jack Bell’s tractor recovered to forensics, Ian. I hope it’s not just because the widow said she had a feeling in her water. It’s costing a bloody fortune, just taking it up to HQ. I’ve already had the Super bending my ear about it. So what have you got?’

‘Well, for a start it wasn’t where it should have been. One of the other fishermen says he can’t understand it. There’s something not right about all this, Andy, I’m sure of it.’

‘Couldn’t it have been moved by the tide?’

‘Apparently not. It bogged down and then got pretty much covered in sand. Where it is is where it stopped they reckon.’

‘SOCOs are going to go absolutely mental. Their nice clean workshop is going to be covered in sand. Not to mention their sandwiches.’

Mann laughed.

‘So you’re willing to sign off on it?’

‘If you mean will I take the flak from the Super when it turns out to be an accidental death, then yes, I will. The day a copper can’t follow their instincts once in a while is the day we should just turn the job over to machines.’

‘Like Val Gorham, you mean.’

Hall rang off, and Mann laughed. He’d take that as a yes.

Mann walked through the village to the Bells’ house. Ray Dixon was parked outside, and got out of the car as Mann approached. ‘I’m bloody starving. I could murder a pie.’

‘We’ll not be long. And remember, her husband is missing, just missing, not confirmed as dead. OK?’

The cottage looked old, and the front door was right on the street. When Mann knocked it was just a second or two before the door opened. The woman was far too young to be Jack’s wife.

‘Any news?’ she asked.

‘No, nothing like that.’ Mann introduced himself and Ray Dixon, and asked if they could come in and talk to Betty. The young woman stood aside, and told them that she was Pat,  Betty and Jack’s youngest daughter.

Betty was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Her eyes were red, and the onions hadn’t been touched yet.

‘I need to keep busy’ she said, putting the knife down and wiping her hands on her pinny before she shook hands. ‘We’re being well looked after by Jan, PC Wilding, if that’s what you’ve come to check on. We don’t want to be any bother.’

‘You’re not being’ said Mann. ‘Just a courtesy call really, and to tell you that we’ve recovered Jack’s tractor.’

‘That’s good. I didn’t want to think of it out there forever, like...’ Betty started to cry, and her daughter moved to comfort her.

‘We won’t stay, but I just wanted to ask you something, Betty.’

She nodded, and looked up. ‘Of course. Anything.’

‘Did Jack say what he was planning to do when he went out on Friday night?’

Betty shook her head slowly, and took a tissue from her pinafore pocket.

‘No, like I said to Jan, we didn’t really talk about it. He always tells me what time he’ll be back, but that’s about it. He usually decides when he’s out there. Fisherman’s instinct, he calls it.’

‘When we spoke on the phone you said that you didn’t believe that your husband had an accident.’

‘That’s right. Not Jack. He always had a plan in case something went wrong, didn’t he, love?’

Pat nodded, but her eyes told Mann that she took a different view.

‘Might he have collapsed then, something like that?’ he asked.

‘Never had a day’s sick in his life. He looks like a man half his age.’

‘So what do you think happened, then?’

‘I don’t know, but there’s been something going on in the village lately, that’s all I know.’

‘Like what?’

‘It’s just been different, somehow. I can’t explain it.’

‘New people around, maybe?’

‘No, nothing like that. But it’s been different, that’s all.’

Mann nodded. When they’d spoken on the phone he’d had the feeling that Betty was holding something back, something that she’d only say face-to-face. Something useful, significant. But now he wasn’t sure at all. It just sounded too vague. He was starting to worry that he’d dropped Andy Hall in it with the Super over nothing.

‘Shame’ said Dixon, as they were walking through the village towards Pete Capstick’s house.

Mann stopped and turned to him. ‘Look Ray, I know what you’re thinking. You think I’ve over-reacted having that tractor recovered for investigation. You think we’re wasting our time.’

Dixon shrugged. ‘You know how it is, Ian. Victims’ families always look for a pattern, a reason when something bad has happened. But we both know there usually isn’t one. It’s just random, shit is.’

‘Thanks for that, Doctor Freud. It isn’t because of what Betty said, though I admit that’s what got us out here. It’s because that tractor was where it had no reason to be.’

‘Just doesn’t sound like crime of the century to me, though.’

Mann started walking again, a bit too quickly for Dixon.

‘Well, let’s see what happens’ said Mann. ‘Andy said he’d square it with Val Gorham whatever happens, and for some reason he’s the blue-eyed boy at the moment.’

‘Don’t tell me she fancies him?’

‘Not unless he’s dynamite in the filing room, which I very much doubt. She just seems to have decided that he’s a good copper. Better than those bloody pen-pushers from HQ that she’s been working with all these years.’

‘You don’t see them getting kicked out though, do you? It’s this door, Ian, this one just here on the left.’

Mann knocked, and had to knock again before Pete Capstick answered the door.

‘Sorry, I was....You know. Just can’t seem to do anything much at the moment.’

‘That’s OK’ said Mann. ‘Can we come in for a minute? We won’t keep you.’

The cottage was very similar to the one they’d just come from, thick-walled, low-ceilinged and small-windowed. But this one had a few kilos of accumulated dust, and a strange smell was coming from the kitchen. Dixon usually enjoyed a brew and a biscuit, but he was glad when one wasn’t offered.

‘What can I do for you?’ asked Capstick.’ I’ve already told that Jan Wilding what I know.’

‘Nothing to worry about. We just want to go over a couple of things with you if that’s OK.’

‘Aye. And you’re CID? From Kendal?’

‘That’s right.’

‘So you think there might be, you know, foul play?’

‘What makes you say that?’

For the first time that day Dixon was completely switched-on, his eyes fixed on Capstick. And for the first time he realised it would be this intensity, the feeling that absolutely nothing else mattered, that he’d miss most when they gave him his bloody quartz carriage clock and his marching orders.

Capstick smiled slightly. ‘Nothing. I must have watched too many TV cop shows. Anyway, what is it that you want to know?’

‘Can you talk us through what happened on Friday night? I know you’ve done it before, but we’d like it first hand.’

‘Aye, sure. I left here at about half eight, maybe a bit after.’

Mann interrupted. ‘Do you live alone?’

Capstick glanced around the room.  ‘Aye, how can you tell? But folks in the village will have seen me. I remember there were quite a few folks about.’

‘Don’t worry about that for now. Did you see Jack as you went out?’

‘No, I didn’t. But one of my neighbours said he was just a few minutes behind me.’

‘So why did you go out ahead of him?’

Capstick shrugged. ‘There’s no right time to go out on the fishing job, like. I had nets quite a bit further out than Jack did, so that’s probably why. But there could be lots of reasons. Some days I’d be first, others he would be. It’s not like we’d get in each others way, out on the sands, like.’

‘Did you see Jack when you were out there that night?’

‘Aye, I did, just in the distance like, but it was him all right. He was at some nets off Humphrey Head, and I was much further out by then. But I know they’re his nets. It was him all right, I promise you that.’

‘And what time was this?’

‘Not sure, but sometime between nine and ten. It was still light anyway.’

‘Did you see anyone else out on the Bay?’

‘No, but that’s not unusual these days. The part-timers don’t usually go out on a Friday night. They leave it to us old ‘uns with nothing better to do. I’d only be down the pub if I wasn’t grafting, that’s why I do it.’

‘And did you see Jack again that night?’

‘No, I didn’t. I didn’t think about it at the time. Just assumed he’d gone back in early. Perhaps he got a salmon or two, maybe a couple of sea trout.’ Capstick winked. ‘It happens, accidental like. And when it does it’s best to head for home.’

‘So what did you do that night?’

‘I went out to the channel and did a bit of shrimping.’

‘Any luck?’

Capstick hesitated before he replied. Both policemen noticed it.

‘No, not much. Just half a basket. Not even worth taking to the co-op.’

‘Co-op?’

‘We club together like, to sell our shrimp. Boil them up in the yard, then take them down there for selling on to the catering trade. But I didn’t bother on Saturday morning. Like I say, there weren’t many to begin with, and then there was all this business with Jack. I ended up chucking most of them away, as it happens.’

‘I understand. Did you know we’ve recovered Jack’s tractor?’

No reaction; not a flicker. ‘Aye, I’d heard that.’

‘Do you know where it was?’

‘Aye, one of the lads told me. I was surprised he was that far out though.’

‘Wouldn’t you have passed each other, if he was making his way further out while you were going in?’

Capstick smiled. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But do you know how big the Bay is at low tide? We could have been miles apart, even though we were both making for the village, and it would have been pitch dark by then.’ Capstick paused. ‘But we’ll never know, will we? No tracks out there to tell us now, like.’

‘That’s true enough. So why do you think he was in that spot? One of the other lads on the fishing job said Jack had no reason that he could see to be there.’