Hail and Farewell (The Lakeland Murders) (14 page)

‘That’s a bit harsh. I’m almost sure that there’s a beating human heart, somewhere underneath all that starch.’

Jane laughed, and put her foot down to get past a caravan. Andy was surprised that his old car could actually still accelerate that hard. He decided that he’d have to try it sometime, and to hell with the fuel consumption.

The team meeting was a solemn and subdued affair. The funeral was only an hour away, and everyone knew it. DCI Hall simply introduced himself to the team, complimented them on their work to date, and handed back to Jane. She didn’t talk for long either.

‘Myself and DCI Hall will be leaving for the funeral shortly, along with DI Smith of course. You all know what needs to be done, and you all know why we’re doing it. There is absolutely nothing to suggest that Chris was involved in any form of illegal activity whatsoever, and DCI Hall has suggested that the close similarities between the clothing and appearance of Chris and Tony Gambles might suggest that Gambles was the intended target for the attack.’ Jane waited for the inevitable mumbling to subside. She saw quite a few nods, and that Waters had his hand raised. ‘Yes, Ron?’

‘So the ACC is happy that this wasn’t an accident?’

‘Absolutely’ said Hall, before Jane could reply. ‘The category of this killing has not changed. And please don’t worry about the ACC Crime, everyone. Just concentrate on the tasks assigned to you. Jane, back to you.’

Jane nodded, and tried not to smile. Waters had been asking for a put-down, and in her experience no-one did them quite as effectively, or as quietly, as DCI Hall.

‘So let’s get to it, everyone. Where did that stolen car used in the burglary get to? And I’ve already mentioned this question to Jenny, where did it come from on Tuesday evening? Where had it been since it was nicked, I mean. Let’s connect it to the killing, or eliminate it. Quick as we can, please. And let’s really firm-up what we know about Matt Hayton. What’s his timeline for the day of the murder, and can we connect him to this death in any way at all?’

DI Smith drove Hall and Jane to the crematorium. It was a lovely, sunny morning, and that just made it even more depressing. They were five minutes early, so they sat in the car and waited for the previous funeral party to leave.

‘You know this sends a message, sir?’ said Smith, eventually.

‘Andy, please. And yes, every decision that we take has a meaning, and consequences. So what message do you think us all being here sends?’

‘That we’re watching the family. That we think the lad was at it, somehow.’

‘I hope not, Jimmy. I’ve talked to family liaison a number of times over the last few days, and yesterday I made sure that the Browns know exactly where we stand.’

‘I see. So where’s that, then? Exactly, like.’

‘It’s very simple. We’re certain that their son was in no way involved with any gang or criminality of any kind, and that we do regard his death as suspicious.’

‘But what if it turns out to be an accident? Like I keep saying, it’s a dangerous game, and folk do die playing it. It’s happened before, and I’ve no doubt that it will happen again.’

Hall straightened his leg and grimaced.

‘Listen, Jimmy, here’s how it is. Do I know for certain that Chris Brown was deliberately attacked? No, I don’t. But we certainly do know, by your own admission, that violence was always intended to occur that night. We also know that Chris Brown resembled Terry Gambles, who may well have been a target for an attack. Finally, we’ve got the mugging of our video man, Baker, and the burglary of his hotel room.’

‘That might be unconnected.’

‘Which one?’

‘Sorry, you’ve lost me, Andy.’

‘Which one might be unconnected? The mugging or the burglary? We know that different people were involved in each offence, so are you saying that Baker was just very, very unlucky? Personally, I doubt it. Because do you know how many other muggings occurred on Tuesday night, and into Wednesday morning, on this division’s patch?’

Smith shook his head.

‘Zero. Not a one. Same goes for other hotel rooms being broken into. So that gives us a conspiracy, doesn’t it? We’ve got a minimum of three individuals, acting in concert. And given that we have a clear connection from Baker and his filming to the death of Chris Brown we’ve got ample reason to proceed with a murder investigation as well, and for the foreseeable future too.’

‘I see.’

‘It’s ironic really, because whoever it was who brought Baker and his filming to George Hayton’s attention is probably responsible for our ongoing interest, and for me being as certain as I can be that we’re looking at foul play here.’

There was silence in the car for a long moment.

‘Aye, that is ironic’ said Smith, eventually.

The funeral passed as funerals do, with every person who wasn’t sitting in the front pews thinking about when it would be their turn. Who would turn up? Who would really miss them? Hall spoke briefly to the Browns at the end of the service, leaning on his left crutch so that he could free his right hand to shake theirs.

‘Will you come back to the house?’ asked Mrs. Brown, and Hall accepted immediately. He would have preferred to get back to the station, but it looked as if it was what she wanted.

Smith followed the family liaison officer’s car back to the Brown’s house, and the officers stood uncomfortably in a group in the living room, quite near the door. After a few minutes Hall’s knee started to hurt, and Jane borrowed a chair from the dining room for him to use. Smith turned away and spoke to a couple of mourners, but only for a few seconds each time. Hall was becoming increasingly frustrated, because he couldn’t see who was in the room.

He was just about to suggest that it was time to go when Smith turned, spoke to someone, and then brought him into the circle. Instinctively Hall got up to shake hands, and it was a moment before he recognised who it was. The photo he’d seen was a few years old, and the man had looked a good deal less smart in his mug shot.

‘DCI Hall, DS Francis, this is George Hayton.’

They shook hands.

‘You knew Chris?’ asked Hall.

‘By sight, aye.’

‘And the family?’

‘Much the same. Old Workington family, are the Browns. Been here as long as the Haytons, I dare say.’

‘So you came to pay your respects?’

‘I did, aye. Respect is important, and I like folk to know I care. You know who I am, Mr. Hall?’

‘I know what’s in the file.’

‘And what’s that then?’

‘This isn’t the time or place. But I’ll be at Workington police station all day. Feel free to drop in and see me.’

‘I might just do that.’ Another man, much younger than Hayton, appeared at his side.

‘We should be going.’

‘Just a minute, Lee. I’m having a chat with DCI Hall here, and his lovely assistant, of course.’

Hayton introduced Lee Bell. He didn’t offer to shake hands.

‘I was just saying that the Browns are an old family, like the Haytons. Been here for ever, like.’

‘Aye’ said Bell, sounding as if he had heard it all before. But Hayton hadn’t finished.

‘Of course just being here for generations that doesn’t mean a thing, not in itself, like. No offence to the Browns, but they’ve never made much of an impact on the town.’

‘And the Haytons have?’ said Hall. ‘Made an impact, I mean?’

Hayton smiled. It was every bit as warm as the one that Hall got from his dentist before he sat in the chair.

‘Oh, aye, we have. At least, we are making an impact now. This is my community, and I do a sight more to look after it than you lot do. Shall I tell you something that might surprise you?’

‘Please do.’

‘What would you say if I told you that a Scottish drugs operation has been looking to move in to this area, and has been selling gear at school gates, to kids as young as ten?’

Hall looked at Smith, who shrugged.

‘Tell me more’ said Hall. ‘We’d be grateful for any help that you could give us.’

‘I’m sure you would. Aye, because you don’t have a bloody clue, do you? Well I don’t need to give you any information, and you want to know why?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Because the problem has been sorted, before your lot even bloody knew it existed.’

‘And we’ve got you to thank for that, have we, Mr. Hayton?’

‘We really should be going’ said Bell, taking Hayton’s arm. But he shook it off and moved closer to Hall.

‘How many coppers are on duty right now, between St Bees and Silloth, say? Come on, you’re the bloody big cheese, you must know.’

‘I don’t, it’s not my division. But I could take an educated guess. Maybe twenty or so, something like that.’

‘Oh, aye? And that includes the four of you here now does it?’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘Well I bet that if you take off the ones who are off sick, on courses, in meetings and doing paperwork there’s only a handful of bobbies available to cover that whole area. Do you think I’m a mile out?’

‘I take your point’ said Hall, ‘and please feel free to pass on your views to the elected Police Commissioner. I’m sure that he welcomes the public’s views.’

‘It wouldn’t matter, would it? You lot are bloody invisible these days, round here anyway. That’s why the town needs me.’

‘So what are you saying? That we’re not able to investigate and prosecute crime properly? Because if you are then you may be in for a shock, Mr. Hayton.’

‘Well, we’ll see, won’t we? But you lot don’t half waste a shed load of time, I’ll say that. You’re all here now, even though everyone knows that this was an accident, and that’s an end of it. Meanwhile a load of Scottish scumbags are pushing hard drugs to our primary school kids.’

‘I thought you said that problem had been taken care of?’

‘Now you listen to me. This is my town, and my people, and I do take care of them. You hear me? The funeral today: I paid for that. The sandwich you’re eating, that came from my catering business. The taxis that have been ferrying folk about, they’re mine too. And we don’t take kindly to offcomers poking about in our business. You hear me?’

‘I certainly do, Mr. Hayton. I’ve found our conversation most interesting. Goodbye for now, but I’m sure we’ll meet again.’

‘So you’re making a run for it, are you?’

‘Oh, we’re not leaving, Mr. Hayton. But you are. A philanthropist such as yourself, you must be in great demand all over the place. Isn’t that right, Mr. Bell?’

‘Come on, George. We’re late already.’

Five minutes later Hall found Mrs. Brown, promised to keep her updated on progress, and commiserated once again. Smith drove in silence most of the way back to the station.

‘Did anything catch your eye, Jimmy?’ asked Hall.

‘Not really, no. Why, did either of you notice anything?

‘Not me’ said Jane. ‘But what was Hayton on about, Jimmy? All that stuff about peddling gear at the school gates.’

‘No idea. Maybe finally getting the better of Jack Moffett is giving him some kind of Napoleon complex. But I’d watch him, Andy. He’s a right nasty piece of work, is George Hayton.’

‘I’m sure he is. But the day that any of us is intimidated, or influenced, by the likes of him is the day that we should pack it all in. But, just out of interest, was what he was saying about those pushers true?’

‘Possible. Aye, it probably was. My contact in the drug squad mentioned something about it a week or two back. Just rumours, like, but the word was that Jack Moffett was looking for a bit of an alliance with some boys from Glasgow. So maybe it happened, I don’t know. Sometimes I think our drugs lads are smoking a bit too much of what they’re supposed to be finding, but they are right occasionally.’

Hall smiled. ‘OK, thanks, Jimmy. And for what it’s worth I’d say we’ve got Hayton rattled, and I’d love to know why that is. We haven’t so much as laid a glove on him so far. So I’ll be very interested to see how he reacts when we do.’

Keith Iredale ate his sandwich and ordered a few new bits for his road bike online. He was riding in a sportive in a couple of weeks time, and with Wrynose on the route he knew he’d need all the help he could get, if he wanted a top ten finish. And Iredale really did want a top ten finish this time.

He was just choosing some new bar tape when his personal mobile rang. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the number. He was tempted to send the call to voice mail, but he didn’t.

‘Dad’ he said, ‘what’s going on?’

‘Your fly-tippers, Keith.’

‘What about them?’

‘I was talking to old Sam, when I popped up to Allonby earlier.’

‘You popped up to Allonby?’

‘Aye. Just for a stroll and a coffee. You know how much your mum loves Allonby.’

‘Was mum with you then?’ Keith was smiling, because he already knew the answer.

‘No, she’d gone through to Carlisle on the bus as it happens. Anyway, do you want to hear what I’ve got for you, or not?’

‘Aye, go on then. What did supergrass Sam have to say for himself?’

‘He said it’s not the first time it’s happened. He said the same thing happened last summer too, when you were away on that course in Preston.’

‘Oh, aye?’

‘Aye, and Sam said he saw a tipper lorry, all loaded up, when he was walking old Bess one night. And the next day there was a load of rubbish dumped, just where the new lot is now.’

‘He didn’t get a name for the firm, did he?’

‘Not at the time, no, or he’d have told me and I’d have told you, like. But he saw that same truck the other day, driving along the main road through the village, slowly, like it was looking for somewhere to tip. That’s what he reckons, anyway.’

‘And who did this truck belong to?’

‘They’re called Environmental Solutions of Cockermouth. Would you bloody believe it, son?’

Keith Iredale laughed out loud, and a couple of people looked round. There hadn’t been much laughter in the office that morning.

‘The cheeky bastards. Thanks dad, I’ll check them out when I get a chance.’ Iredale paused, because something had occurred to him. ‘You’ve already had a look, haven’t you?’