Riddled on the Sands (The Lakeland Murders) (5 page)

‘Really? Cunning old bugger, Jack was. I mean is. Hope so anyway. He might have been on his way somewhere else, had some kind of trouble with the tractor, maybe. It does happen.’

‘Our forensic team will have a look at that.’

‘Aye, I thought so. But they might not be able to tell much. Though they will be able to tell if the engine was running when the tide came back in.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Aye. Have you ever seen a diesel engine that fills up with water when it’s running? It’d destroy it, pretty much.’

‘So what do you think happened? Is there any chance that Jack wanted to disappear?’

‘Suicide, like?’

‘Not necessarily, but let’s take that one first. Do you think there’s any chance that Jack took his own life?’

Capstick didn’t need any thinking time. ‘No way, and I’ll tell you why. Jack lived for the next catch, the next tide. He was a right proper fisherman, I mean he is one. He would never think about anything like that, not while he could get up on to a tractor and out onto the sands.’

‘So how about if he chose to disappear? Like you say, there are no tracks out there on the sand now, and you were the only other person out there that we know of, so it could have happened. Maybe he just walked off the sands. What do you think?’

This time Capstick did hesitate. ‘Could have, yes. Aye, I suppose it’s possible. But I don’t see it. Me and Jack weren’t, I mean aren’t, that close, but I can’t see it. As far as I know he’s happy at home, loves the village too, like. I can’t see him buggering off, can you?’

‘We don’t know what happened yet, Mr. Capstick. We’re just beginning our investigation. But we will find out.’

Capstick looked a little warier than he had. ‘Aye, well I don’t think he did a flit, like. Where would he go? What would he do? Loved his family, did Jack. All I’m saying is that it’s not impossible. If the body doesn’t turn up I suppose it’s something you’ll have to look at.’

‘Do you think the body will wash up?’

‘Aye, probably, they usually do. On the Morecambe side I expect, somewhere down that way.’

Mann looked levelly at Capstick, knowing that Dixon was doing the same. He paused, then paused some more.

‘Thanks for your time today, Mr. Capstick. We’ll be in touch.’

‘Aye, you do that, aye. If I’m not here you know where I’ll be.’

Mann and Dixon walked back to the car in silence. In villages like this the walls had ears. And since they were off the clock and heading for a free feed Dixon put his foot down when they were back in the car.

‘Take it easy, Ray’ said Mann.

‘Where we stopping?’

‘Witherslack? Pie and a pint there?’

‘You’re on. So what did you make of friend Capstick?’

‘Maybe nowt, I’m not sure. Could be the shock, he might just be the solitary type, but it just didn’t feel right. He knows Jack didn’t do a bunk, of course he does.’

‘But not a suspect?’

‘No, ‘course not. He didn’t kill Jack. Why would he?’

‘You want me to have a look at him though, don’t you?’

‘First thing tomorrow, mate. But for now you’ve earned your dinner. All that sea air has really done the job. I could eat a scabby horse.’

‘You’ve been to this pub before then have you, Ian?’ laughed Dixon.

Tuesday, 18th June

Jane Francis had got into a bit of a routine, and it suited both her and Andy Hall. She usually stayed over at his place on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, and he sometimes spent a night in the week at hers. But she was on her own that morning, so she was in the office soon after six. She couldn’t sleep in until the alarm went off on these light mornings, and anyway she liked the station when it was quiet. It made her work feel more important somehow, more urgent.

But it seemed that she wasn’t the only one who felt that way, because as she was locking her car Val Gorham’s big black Audi swept into the Superintendent’s spot. Jane thought about walking quickly in to the station, pretending that she hadn’t seen the Super, but she knew it would be rude. So she stopped and waited. Val Gorham smiled as she caught up with Jane.

‘Morning, Jane, you’re in bright and early.’

‘You know, ma’am, villains to catch, paperwork to do.’

‘Tell me about it. But where would we be without it?’

‘Germany? No wait, that’s where we’d be with even more paperwork. I don’t know, where would we be?’

Gorham didn’t smile. ‘I was thinking of chaos, Jane. As I always say, good procedures make for good policing.’

‘Absolutely, ma’am.’

‘Anything new I need to know about?’

‘First job when I get in is to check the overnight reports, but you know what it’s like this time of year.’

‘Even the scum-bags are on holiday?’

‘The Costas gain is our loss, Ma’am.’

This time Gorham did smile. ‘We must have a drink after work sometime’ said Gorham. ‘I’m still daily commuting from Penrith, so it would be good to get to know Kendal better.’

‘Of course, ma’am, just let me know when.’

‘I understood that you were otherwise engaged in the evenings these days, though, Jane?’

‘Not every night, ma’am.’

Jane held the door open, and watched Superintendent Gorham walk away down the corridor. She could just imagine a brass band playing a stirring march.

Up in the office Jane made a cup of tea, enjoying the fact that the kitchen was still clean. Why were coppers always so bloody slovenly? Probably because most were men, with wives who still cleaned up after them, she thought, as she washed and dried her tea spoon, and returned it to the right drawer.

While her computer booted up Jane looked at her previous day’s to-do list, and wrote a new one. Fifteen items relating to twelve cases, plus three admin matters. Not bad. By the time her computer had booted up and she was on the system Jane’s tea was half drunk. She went straight to her email and looked for the by-station crime report for the previous day.

‘All rubbish’ she said out loud, then stopped and looked again. She picked up her phone and called Charlie Coward, the Duty Inspector.

‘Good morning, Charlie.’

‘What’s good about it?’

‘Like that, is it? Your disciplinary come through?’

‘Aye. Early retirement, and I only just kept my rank.’

‘Sorry mate. When does it happen?’

‘The Federation will spin it out a bit, but I’ll be gone before Christmas. Can’t say I’ll miss it. I’ve had it up to here with the job.’

Coward paused and Jane didn’t fill the gap. She didn’t know what to say. She felt that she was only just beginning.

‘Anyway, Jane, what can I do for you, love?’

‘This fire last night. What can you tell me? It’s got a suspicious flag on it.’

‘Something and nothing. Things must be quiet for you to be interested. Just a garage that went up in flames down on the estate. So I expect all it took with it was a busted lawn mower and some garden furniture.’

‘Who responded?’

‘Nobby Styles. He’s off duty now, but I asked him why he called it suspicious. He said it was the time it was called in.’

‘2.05AM?”

‘Aye, a bit late for kids messing with matches he thought, even down there.’

‘That it?’

‘Aye, pretty much.’

‘Have the householders got form?’

‘Aye, Nobby says he’s a regular and she used to be. Low level rubbish really, certainly not arson material, those two. Their kids are too young really. I think the oldest is only about nine or ten. Nobby didn’t reckon any of them for it at all, anyway. And who’s daft enough to set their own garage on fire?’

‘I wouldn’t mind setting Andy’s on fire. You should see the crap he keeps in there.’

‘Lifetime of memories I expect, love.’

‘I expect you’re right’ said Jane, and Charlie could hear the edge in her voice.

‘Sorry, love, I didn’t mean....’

’That’s all right. Listen, what time is Nobby back in?’

‘Four this afternoon.’

‘Would you ask him to drop in for a chat before he goes out?’

‘Aye, will do. But you’re wasting your time on this one, love.’

‘One other thing, Charlie. Have the Fire Service forensic team had a look at it?’

Coward laughed. ‘No, Jane, they haven’t. Seems like some of us actually have some work to do.’

Ian Mann decided that he was best off trying to keep out of the office until SOCO had examined the tractor. Because of its size, and the fact that it had sand compacted into every opening, it had been taken to the big garage at HQ. He’d phoned in the previous evening and taken a real ear-bashing from Sandy Smith, the woman who ran the vehicle investigation team.

‘This is the most fucking horrible job I’ve ever been given. Worse than the one when we found bits of that woman all over that old Jag.’

‘The one with the ear in the glovebox?’

‘Aye, well this is even worse. I’ve had to have put a bloody airtight tent round it, and adjust the air pressure.’

‘To keep any evidence in?’

‘No, you toss-pot. To stop all that bloody sand getting everywhere. What you had delivered was two tons of hundred year old farm machinery, plus another five tons of million year old silicon dioxide and calcium carbonate.’

‘That’s sand, right?’

‘Give the big man a prize, someone. Yes, it’s sand, and it gets bloody everywhere. It’s playing hell with our kit.’

Sandy sounded livid. Mann wasn’t overly concerned, because she usually did. He was pretty sure it was all an act. Pretty sure, but not absolutely certain.

‘At least you’ve got the name for it, eh, Sandy?’

‘Do you think you’re the first to say that, you cretin? And what the hell do you expect to find? Some old bloke was mad enough to drive his tractor about in the sea. And surprise, surprise, that turned out not to be a good idea.’

‘He wasn’t driving about in the sea, Sandy. The tide was out. I thought we’d been through all that.’

‘I know. Now listen to me, Ian fucking Mann. I expect to see you here bright and early tomorrow, and you’d better pray that we find something worth finding. Otherwise it’ll be you with the dustpan and brush.’

‘And if I’m not there?’

‘They’ll be arresting me for committing crimes against the person with the Glasgow socket-set. And the victim will be you, fucking hard man or not.’

A full minute after he put the phone down Mann was still smiling. He did like Sandy.

But as he drove up the deserted pre-rush hour motorway to Penrith Mann wondered briefly if he’d done the right thing. He didn’t think about it for long though, because he wasn’t like Andy Hall. He didn’t bother thinking too much about the things that he couldn’t change.

Sandy and a couple of the lads were already at work when he walked into the garage, he could see their shapes against the outside of the tent, illuminated by the big lights inside. As he was suiting up Sandy came out.

‘We’re sweating like pigs in there, Ian, and it’s all thanks to you.’

‘Beers are on me later on’ he said.

Sandy smiled. ‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in years.’

‘Found anything?’

‘Give us a chance. We’re examining each area, sucking out the sand, then filtering and examining it. Just in case there’s something in there that there shouldn’t be. It’s going to take us bloody days, and cost you a fortune.’

‘I know, but if a job’s worth doing....’

‘Funny, that’s what my old man used to say.’

‘Oh yeah, what did he do then? Mechanic, was he?’

‘Flasher. One of the best in the county, they say.’

‘Very funny.’

Sandy took a drink from a bottle of water and offered it to Mann.

‘So what are you expecting us to find on this bloody relic of the industrial revolution? Give us a clue, for Christ’s sake, Ian.’

‘I don’t know, Sandy, honest I don’t. Now, how can I help?’

‘Fuck me, two sensible sentences from you in just one day. You’re as useful as a chocolate fireguard when it comes to any sort of proper forensic work, obviously, but you can at least be our labourer and shift all the bloody bags of sand we’re producing.’

‘And where do you want me to put them?’

Mann realised his error as soon as he’d spoken. But Sandy spared him, and they both burst out laughing.

Four hours later Mann was soaked in sweat, and most of the sand was gone. He’d been promoted from sand-shifter to sand-sifter and shifter, and he’d called Sandy over a couple of times when he’d found things that looked of interest.

‘That’s a bit of sea-shell, you prat’ was what she usually said. ‘Who do you think did it then, a bloody bi-valve?’