Death on High (The Lakeland Murders) (16 page)

The binoculars were starting to dig in to her face, so she took them away from her eyes for a second or two. A family came out, the man struggling to get a push chair through the doors, and his wife helping to carry it down the steps. Then Jane saw a woman who she’d seen before, and it took her a few seconds to place her. It was Lillian Hill, the woman who had comforted Vicky Harrison immediately after her husband had fallen to his death. Jane checked through the binoculars, it was definitely Lillian.

She forced herself to concentrate on the remaining stragglers as they left the church, and she watched until the vicar turned and went back inside the church, closing the doors behind him. Jane sat there thinking. Could this possibly be anything other than significant? And, assuming it was, how on earth was she going to tell Andy Hall what she’d discovered? She hadn’t ever lied to him before, and she had no intention of starting now. So she was left with just one simple decision to make. Should she tell Andy what she had discovered, and how, or should she continue the investigation alone?

Monday, 11th March

Ray Dixon was looking forward to meeting Ian Mann. Partly because he liked Mann, but mainly because it meant the better part of another shift out of the office. Andy Hall was a good copper and a decent bloke, but a bit too keen and a mite too southern with it, while Jane Francis was nothing but a teacher’s pet. Dixon known a lot of coppers who had worked too hard and who wound up married to the job and all alone when they were off shift. But he hadn’t said anything to Jane. She was such a know-it-all she could work it out for herself.

Dixon’s wife Brenda, a teaching assistant at a local primary school, was on holiday that week, and over breakfast she’d said that she fancied a ride up with him to Carlisle. It was against the rules, but no-one would ever know, and he was taking his own car anyway. So they stopped at the chocolate shop in Orton on the way up, had a coffee and a teacake, and he dropped Brenda off in town.

He parked a street or two away from Ian Mann’s and walked round. He had his DEFRA identity card and briefcase with him, just in case. He felt very visible, and not a little vulnerable, as he stood in the street waiting for Mann to let him in.

‘How is she, that security lass?’ asked Mann, as they stood in the kitchen while Mann made a brew.

‘Fine, honestly. The doctor says a bit of dentistry and a few weeks rest and she’ll be right as rain.’

‘If I bunged you some cash could you see that it finds its way too her? To help with the dental work. Sylvie, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t be soft Ian. It’s not your fault. You didn’t even know it had happened ‘til after, did you buddy?’

‘But I was there Ray. I was there.’

‘Yes you were, so let’s do a bit of Police work shall we? That other bloke, from your description and Spedding’s KAs I think it was probably this character, Carl Richardson. Does he look right to you?’

Dixon fished his phone out of his pocket and showed Mann a mug shot.

‘Yes, that’s him. Plenty of form?’

‘I should say so. He’s a real charmer, is Carl. Two stretches for GBH, and he got off on an attempted murder last year. Couple of witnesses did runners. Mind you, I would have too if I came from Millom.’

Mann smiled. For Ray Dixon the civilized world ended at Coniston, having only begun just north of Carnforth.

‘He had that look I suppose’ said Mann.

‘You want to watch yourself, Ian.’

‘I am doing lad, don’t worry. That’s the thing about career criminals, you just can’t trust the bastards. A bit like Superintendents really.’

They took their drinks through to the sitting room.

‘So you think this next job with Spedding is up at height?’

‘Yeh. He was pissed-up, and maybe said more than he intended.’

‘Pinching the fairy from the top of the Christmas tree?’

‘A bit late for that Ray.’

‘Metal off a roof?’

‘Sounds likely. A church maybe, or an industrial building perhaps. Could be anything that’s up high. But maybe it’s not even metals this time. Maybe we’re going to nick a bloody wind turbine. I wouldn’t put it past him.’

‘Any idea of when and where then?’

‘Nope. He said it would be a while. He wanted to know if I could abseil, did I tell you?’

‘Aye. A right bunch of super heroes you’ve got yourself mixed up with Ian. So what about young Ben Brockbank? Are you going to be off nicking someone’s silage or something?’

‘Don’t know, but he emailed last night. I’m meeting him in Alston in an hour. I better get myself sorted in a bit.’

‘I’ll be off then’ said Dixon sadly. He was disappointed, but he’d have to get back to Kendal. Now his wife would complain about not having had enough time in the shops the whole away home, and he’d have to spend the rest of the day in the office as well. It was a lose, lose situation, absolutely no doubt about that.

Mann enjoyed the drive to Alston, even though to save time he went the quick way.  The drive was still a blast, even when he climbed up into misty low cloud a mile or two before he reached the town. For such a small place it had a lot of pubs, and it took him a couple of minutes to find the one that Brockbank had suggested they meet in.

Mann parked next to Brockbank’s Subaru, and noted that his car was quite a bit cleaner. Inside the pub was fuggy and almost empty. Brockbank had a window table, looking out over the pretty town square. Mann asked what he wanted, walked to the bar and bought the drinks. Mann put them down on the table and held out his hand. He was very aware that his attitude towards Brockbank was very different than towards Spedding, but despite that he’d have to nick them both. It was going to be an absolute pleasure to cuff Spedding nice and tight, but he’d have very mixed feelings about arresting Brockbank. He’d still pinch him though, he knew that.

‘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.