Dead Level (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series Book 5) (9 page)

‘Thank you,’ said Jane.

‘We’re really sorry to . . .’

Mrs King raised her hand, stopping Janice in mid-sentence.

‘We know. We just want to know what you’re doing about it,’ said Mrs King. She was fighting to keep her composure and winning. Just.

‘A forty-one year old man from Bristol has been arrested and charged with the murder of your daughter, Mrs King. At the moment we’re looking for any connection between them to give us a . . .’

‘Motive,’ interrupted Charles King.

‘He’s a barrister,’ said Mrs King.

‘Well, yes, then,’ said Janice. ‘We’re looking for a motive.’

‘So, what have you got? DNA at the scene?’

‘The arrest is the result of forensic . . .’

‘So, he’s miles from home. But what’s he doing there? That’s the question, isn’t it?’

‘Mr King, we have boxes we have to tick, questions we have to ask,’ said Jane.

‘Well, you’d best get on with it, hadn’t you?’ snapped Mrs King.

‘How would you describe your daughter’s relationship with her husband?’ asked Janice.

‘You don’t seriously think he’s behind it, do you?’ asked
Mr King
.

‘It’s a question . . .’

‘You have to ask. I get it.’

‘No, definitely not,’ said Mrs King. ‘They were devoted to each other.’

‘Had she ever said anything that might have given you cause for concern?’

‘No.’

‘Or that Tom might have been unfaithful, perhaps?’

‘No. Look, they were planning to start a family, for God’s sake.’

‘Mrs King, your daughter was . . .’

‘Did they have any money worries?’ interrupted Jane. ‘Were they in debt?’

‘Not that we knew of,’ replied Mr King.

‘And if they did we’d have helped them out,’ said Mrs King.

‘What about her previous boyfriends?’

‘She only had one. That lad at Exeter.’ Mrs King shook her head. ‘What was his name, Simon?’

‘James somebody. Bryce, I think. Something like that. It was years ago.’

Jane was making notes.

‘What did Elizabeth study at Exeter?’

‘Economics. Then she trained as an accountant.’

‘And James Bryce?’

‘Chemistry, from memory,’ replied Simon.

‘Have you ever heard her mention the name John Stanniland?’

‘Is that him?’ asked Simon. ‘Her killer.’

Jane nodded.

‘Where is he now?’

‘He’s in custody.’

‘Have you charged him?’ asked Mr King.

‘Not yet,’ replied Janice.

‘I’ve never heard that name,’ said Mrs King. ‘Have you, Charles?’

‘No.’

‘Where did Tom and Elizabeth meet?’

‘At the wedding of a mutual friend. We knew it was serious before she did. Well, I did anyway,’ replied Mrs King. ‘He’s a good lad is Tom. Or at least he was until he got involved in politics. Whatever possessed him . . . Lizzie was never cut out to be an MP’s wife. She was supposed to have her own career. Her own life . . . but she threw it all away to support Tom . . .’ Her voice tailed off.

Charles King sat down next to his wife on the sofa and put his arm around her.

‘Anyway, I refuse to believe he could’ve . . . would’ve . . .’ she buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

‘Did you interview Stanniland?’ asked Charles King.

‘We did,’ replied Janice.

‘And what did he say?’

‘We can’t divulge . . .’

‘My daughter has been murdered, Inspector, and I would like to know whether her killer offered any explanation as to why he killed her.’

‘He said nothing,’ replied Jane.

‘No comment?’

‘Every question.’

‘Was he advised?’

‘He had the duty solicitor.’

‘What happens now?’

‘We’re waiting for the forensic and post mortem reports and trying to build a picture of their lives together. It remains possible that it was purely random . . .’

‘Random? You’re joking surely?’ said Simon.

‘It’s possible,’ replied Janice.

‘Bollocks.’

‘What my son means is that Elizabeth died for a reason and we want to know what it was,’ said Mr King.

Don’t we all.

Jane peeled the parking ticket off her windscreen and jumped into the driver’s seat.

‘I wasn’t expecting a bloody cross-examination,’ said Janice.

‘At least they were quite clear about Tom.’

‘And thanks for stopping me. I nearly put my foot in it, didn’t I?’

‘Odd they didn’t know she was pregnant though, don’t you think?’ asked Jane.

‘Possibly.’

‘I mean, she was three months gone and they’d had a scan too. You’d have thought she’d have told her mother by then?’

‘Maybe they were going to tell them at Christmas?’ asked Janice.

‘Yes, that might be it.’

‘What d’you make of Simon?’

‘A grieving and angry brother.’

‘I’d love to know what he does at RM Poole.’

Jane took her phone out of her handbag and opened a web browser.

‘Here it is.’ She was reading from the screen. ‘Wikipedia. Ah, that explains it.’

‘What?’

‘Special Boat Section.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Think SAS but with boats instead of wings.’

‘He’s on standby to go overseas then, I suppose, which explains why they’ve stayed in Poole.’

‘It does.’

‘Let’s get back. Then I want to go right through Elizabeth’s past and see if we can’t find John Stanniland cropping up somewhere.’

‘And Tom’s?’

‘Yes, and Tom’s.’

Jane was filling up with petrol at the Shell station at the entrance to Express Park when four police cars and a van came screaming down the service road from the back of the police station. They turned left at the roundabout, and then sped north towards the motorway roundabout, turning their sirens on as they accelerated away from Bridgwater.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ asked Janice. She was standing behind Jane, swigging from a bottle of Diet Coke.

‘God knows.’

‘I’ll walk in from here. See what all the fuss is about.’

‘I’ll catch you up,’ replied Jane, replacing the nozzle on the pump.

Jane watched from the queue in the petrol station as Janice walked along the pavement towards the police centre. She had always cut a confident figure had Janice, but somehow seemed just a little bit out of her depth this time. Or maybe Jane had just got used to working with Dixon, who oozed confidence even when he had no real idea what was going on at all. Not that he would ever admit it, of course, at least not to anyone else except her.

She sent him a text message,
where are u J x
, wondering whether the reply would be
in the pub
or
on the beach
. She looked across the garage forecourt. Vehicles were turning in with their headlights on now and it had been raining hard for most of the day. Yes, it would be
in the pub
, she felt sure of that.

Jane was parking her car on the top floor of the car park when the reply came.

watching tv x

‘Tosser,’ muttered Jane, rolling her eyes. Then she jumped out of her car and ran across to the staff entrance, sidestepping the large puddles as she went. Janice opened the door for her from the inside.

‘What’s up, Jan?’

‘The Parrett’s burst its banks.’

Jane looked back and watched the rain falling in the lights on the far side of the car park. She listened to the water running
along the
gutter in front of her and the sound of the raindrops hammering on the parked cars. It was difficult to tell which was louder. Then she thought about Mr Grafton and Mrs Freeman, with sandbags across their front doors.

‘Muchelney’s cut off,’ continued Janice. ‘And they’re evacuating Moorland and Northmoor Green.’

Chapter Eight

W
hat’re you up to this morning?’ asked Jane.

‘I’m gonna pop down to Landroverman and see if they’ve got a snorkel,’ replied Dixon. ‘Then I’ll have a go at fitting it.’

‘You?’

‘What’s wrong with that? There’s a video on YouTube that shows you how to do it.’

‘Still, if it falls to bits you’ll have to get a new car.’

‘Fat chance. How about you?’

‘Still looking for a connection between Elizabeth Perry and
her killer
.’

‘What’s his name?’ asked Dixon.

‘Stanniland.’

‘Any ideas?’

‘None.’

‘There may be no connection, of course.’

‘I thought you said there was no such thing as a random murder?’ asked Jane.

‘There isn’t. So, look for a connection between Tom Perry and Stanniland.’

‘We are.’

‘Or with the person who paid him.’

‘We are.’

‘I’ll shut my face then,’ replied Dixon, smiling.

‘What about your cold case?’

‘I was supposed to be seeing the witnesses next week but they’ll have been evacuated, I expect. Muchelney’s flooded, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve got mobile numbers so I’ll catch up with them on Monday.’

Jane followed Dixon south on the M5, getting off at junction 23. She slowed as she crossed the motorway and watched the back of his Land Rover disappearing into the distance as he continued south. Monty was sitting in the rear window staring at the cars behind them. She thought about her conversation with Dixon over breakfast and the little white lie she had told. Look for a connection with the person who paid Stanniland. That had been Dixon’s advice and she had replied ‘we are’ when what she really meant was ‘we will be’. But where to begin?

She arrived at Express Park just as the morning briefing was finishing. Janice, Dave Harding, Mark Pearce and Harry Unwin were gathered around a workstation in the CID area on the first floor and Jane caught the tail end of the discussion. Dave was to
focus on
the Bridgwater end, while Harry and Mark were to concentrate on
Bristol
, building a complete picture of Stanniland’s movements for the forty-eight hours leading up to the murder, profiles of his known associates, CCTV and traffic cameras, and his van. They had their work cut out.

‘Jane, you’re with me,’ said Janice, picking up her handbag and walking over to a workstation in the vast windows of the police centre. ‘We need to find a connection between Stanniland and the Perrys. All right?’

‘What if they’re not connected? What if the connection is with someone else, and that person paid Stanniland, possibly?’

‘That’ll have to be stage two, if we find nothing directly connecting them, and let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Jane. ‘Coffee?’

‘Yes, please. You take Elizabeth and I’ll take Tom. OK?’

It was just after 4 p.m. by the time Jane looked up from her computer. She had spent much of the day on the phone and the rest staring at her screen. Her eyes felt dry and hot, so she rubbed them and peered out into the gloom. The street lights were already on and it was still raining. Hard.

She turned back to her computer, opened a web browser and went to BBC News.

‘Oh, shit,’ she said, scanning the news headlines. ‘You seen this, Jan?’

‘What?’ Janice was sitting at the next workstation and spoke without looking away from her screen.

‘A major incident has been declared by Somerset County Council and Sedgemoor District Council. An amber flood warning is in place and they’re expecting another inch of rain in the next twenty-four hours.’

Janice looked up.

‘And listen to this,’ continued Jane, reading from her screen. ‘Experts tell the public to be prepared for further flooding.’

‘I could’ve told them that,’ said Janice.

‘And look at this,’ said Jane.

Janice jumped up from her chair and stood behind Jane.

‘Where the hell is that?’

‘Muchelney,’ replied Jane.

They were staring at a photograph of the roof of a silver car, water gently lapping against the top of the windows.

‘That must be four feet deep,’ said Janice.

‘Find anything in Tom’s past connecting him with Stanniland?’ asked Jane.

‘No. What about Elizabeth?’

‘Straight “A” student at every turn. Gap year working for charity in Malawi. There’s lots on Facebook but nothing sinister. Not even amongst her friends. I can’t find anyone who has a bad word to say about her. And as for her path crossing with a drug dealer? No chance.’

Janice shook her head.

‘What now then?’ asked Jane.

Janice was about to reply when they were both distracted by the sound of a door slamming at the far end of the first floor. They listened to heavy footsteps marching along the landing and watched the end of the canteen to see who would appear around the corner.

DCI Lewis was flushed and Jane could see that he was gritting his teeth, even from twenty yards away. He stopped on the far side of the workstations and looked across at Jane and Janice.

‘Meeting room two. Now.’

They followed DCI Lewis across the landing and into meeting room two. He slammed the door behind them and spoke without sitting down.

‘Well?’

‘Nothing, Sir,’ replied Janice.

‘Nothing?’

‘Not yet, anyway. We’ve been looking for a connection between the Perrys and Stanniland. The next step is to proceed on the basis that Stanniland was paid by a person or persons unknown.’

DCI Lewis shook his head.

‘We’ve got the DNA, don’t forget, Sir,’ said Janice.

‘Well, that’s just the point, isn’t it,’ replied Lewis. ‘We haven’t got the DNA, have we? At least, not anymore.’

‘What’s happened?’ asked Jane.

‘PGL fucked it up,’ replied Lewis.

‘What d’you . . . ?’

‘What was the term they used?’ replied Lewis, shaking his head. ‘“Investigator mediated contamination”.’

Janice pulled a chair out from under the table and slumped into it.

‘It was a skeleton staff on over Christmas, so they retested
the sample
this morning,’ continued Lewis. ‘A matter of routine, apparently.’

‘And?’

‘They got a different result. A stack of plastic trays from a robotic unit was reused when it shouldn’t have been and it’s contaminated the whole bloody lot.’

‘But that’s all we had.’

‘Exactly.’

‘They got nothing from the vomit or the cigarettes in the lane,’ said Jane.

‘So, what’ve we got left?’ asked Lewis.

‘Not enough,’ replied Janice.

‘There’s his van on the traffic camera,’ said Jane, ‘if High Tech can enhance the footage so we can see the number plate.’

‘And what does that prove?’

‘On its own, nothing,’ replied Janice.

‘That’s what we’ve got then, isn’t it? Nothing.’

DCI Lewis saw Dave Harding waiting outside the meeting room door and opened it.

‘What’s up, Dave?’

‘We’ve lost the crime scene, Sir.’

‘What d’you mean “lost it”?’

‘It’s under twelve feet of water.’

‘It just gets better and better,’ said Lewis, sitting down on a chair he had kicked out from under the table. He closed his eyes and sat in silence, breathing slowly through his nose. Dave
Harding
used the opportunity to back out of the room, closing the door behind him. Janice and Jane waited.

‘We’ll never get another extension to hold him based on what we’ve got,’ said Lewis. ‘The reason we got the last extension has gone now and we sure as hell haven’t got enough left to charge him.’

‘No, Sir,’ replied Janice.

‘I’ll speak to the chief constable. And Vicky Thomas. Our press officer’s going to earn her bloody money this time.’

Jane followed Janice out into the rain and stood holding an umbrella
over her while she smoked a cigarette that she had scrounged off Harry Unwin.

‘It’s not your fault, Jan.’

‘You and I both know that . . .’

‘And Lewis knows it too.’

‘Maybe, but that’s not how it’s going to look. Is it?’ replied
Janice
, blowing the smoke out through her nose.

Jane watched a large black Jaguar turning into the staff car park. She recognised the driver.

‘That’s the assistant chief constable, Jan. We’d better go.’

‘Well, we haven’t exactly covered ourselves in glory, have we?’ said David Charlesworth. He was sitting at the head of the table, dressed casually and chewing an earpiece of his black horn rimmed spectacles.

‘The fault rests with PGL, Sir,’ said Lewis.

‘An inevitable consequence of the privatisation of the Forensic Science Service, I suppose?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Well, you’re probably right. But how do we explain that to the Perry family?’

‘And to the press,’ said Vicky Thomas.

‘It’s not as if we’ve come up with anything else, is it?

‘No, Sir.’

‘Have the family been told?’

‘Not yet, Sir,’ replied Lewis.

‘When can we hold him until?’

‘We’ve got a Warrant of Further Detention but it expires tomorrow morning.’

‘And the DNA was the basis upon which we got it?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Where is he?’

‘In custody here, Sir.’

‘Have forensics finished in his flat?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘What did they find?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing off the van either, I suppose?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘And the crime scene is flooded, I gather?’

‘It’s under twelve feet of water.’

‘He’s been very lucky then, hasn’t he? This . . . what’s his name?’

‘Stanniland, Sir.’

David Charlesworth shook his head.

‘I don’t see we have any real alternative, do you? We have to release him. But for God’s sake, keep a tail on him.’

‘What about the family?’ asked Lewis.

‘I’ll tell them,’ replied Charlesworth. ‘Although God alone knows what I’m going to say.’