Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2) Read online

  ‘Do they know where he went?’ Tony asked whilst moving back to collect his files.

  ‘No. He’d been to lunch, met with a client earlier than planned and then dashed out again.’

  April issued a series of instructions.

  ‘Put a call out for his car registration and get it logged on the PNC. I want responses to any hits. Ensure we have co-operation with the ANPR cameras in carparks in the Southport and Liverpool areas. Emphasise that it’s life critical so any reads on his registration number we need to know. Let’s find him. I want the name and address of the person he saw earlier too. Has he done a runner and gone to ground or are we staring victim number three in the face?’ She held up the photograph she had brought from the meeting with Brian. ‘This is whom we seek.’

  They each looked at the picture.

  ‘We need to chat again with the beautiful Nicola. Something’s beginning to cloud the facts. But before we close, you’ll be aware that Forensics has found the titles of the films. We thought they were CDs but they were, in fact, DVDs located at the site, dangling from the scarecrow. They were: Gladiator, Playback and The Revenant. Black market copies. If you do a quick internet search or you know your films, we come up with …’ she paused and waited.

  ‘Good old “get your own back”,’ mumbled Tony.

  ‘Indeed, revenge and you can add killing to the end of that. We’re assured by the farmer that these were not what he used, his were damaged music CDs. We have writing on the wall. “Who had done what to whom?” is the question that should be added to the boards. Just within this small group we have a number of people who in some ways upset others. But upset enough to kill …?’

  Tony waved a hand. ‘One other thing at this stage. I believe Fred was making enquiries about the direction in which Carla ran her circuit. Skeeter mentioned that runners have a preferred direction. Well, according to Brian he always saw her running clockwise which matched the CCTV footage we had from the park-and-ride camera. However, the webcam clearly shows the runner we believe to be Carla running in the opposite direction. Brian confirmed on that morning she was running in the same direction as he and that was clockwise. So, we can assume she ran back towards the car as it pulled into the club driveway. She knew the person in that car. She willingly climbed in. From Brian’s first-hand account, she didn’t look troubled or under duress. The questions are, who was it and what made her stop her run?’

  Chapter 16

  Skeeter and April were approaching Scarisbrick on their way to the salon when the report was received.

  ‘Stuart Groves’s body has been found on the roof of the Tulketh Street carpark. The registration had been read entering at 13.51 and according to the system it’s still there.’

  A police request to the National Carpark Company responsible for the building to organise a computer check on the registration numbers of vehicles entering and leaving from 1pm had brought an immediate hit. They had located and reported the information within fifteen minutes of beginning the search. Such co-operation was not compulsory but was often regarded as an essential, professional and commercial duty. It might, on occasion, save lives.

  April informed Skeeter of the situation.

  ‘A PCSO was sent to check. According to his report it’s gruesome. The crime scene’s been closed off which will cause a few worries for those collecting cars but once CSI arrive, they’ll get a route in and out to clear the place. Blue lights and horns. Let’s get there.’

  Skeeter’s driving was as aggressive as her persona. Although the road had few clear passing places, the sound of the siren and the blue strobes were enough in most cases to allow good progress. April slipped her hand into the handle above the passenger door and forced her feet into the footwell. Scarisbrick New Road slowed their progress as they faced a number of junctions that needed careful negotiation.

  Tulketh Street was clear and the light traffic was still flowing. It was only the multistorey carpark that had been closed off. Skeeter pulled up on the roadside ignoring the double yellow lines. The entry had been blocked but cars from the lower levels had been allowed to exit. It was not unusual to see a group of bystanders collecting at the scene of a crime and today was no different. Many held their mobile phones so social media would soon be awash. On this occasion they had been moved to the far side of the road to congregate on another open, ground level carpark. Occasionally, one person would be escorted into the pedestrian entry by a carpark attendant on receipt of the parking ticket. To clear them quickly, the fees had been waived and the exit barrier had been raised to ensure the vehicles were cleared from the area as swiftly as possible. The position of the body on the top floor was, if a murder can be classed as such, a convenience to those trying to keep some semblance of order below.

  Skeeter heard the noise first and looked up scanning the sky in the direction of the sound. She quickly identified the distant police helicopter. It hovered in the direction of the railway line, its high-pitched drone gradually diminishing as it left the area. April and Skeeter had covered their shoes before following the designated route into the stairwell, carefully progressing from ground level and exiting on the roof. They followed the tape and cones placed to guide those attending the scene on a thin pathway until they reached a further cordon. The front of the red Audi was all that could be seen at this point. It was only when moving further round and on examining the car’s windscreen did the extent of the crime become apparent. Although still transparent, there was an opaque quality to the glass giving the appearance of setting candle wax. In certain areas, the streaks and patches were darker than others. The passenger side windows were also stained in a similar way but were more difficult to detect owing to the proximity of the wall.

  ‘Bloody hell, it’s literally a shambles,’ Skeeter announced. ‘Someone has clearly been slaughtered.’

  A PCSO was sitting on a green blanket well away from the vehicle and was being attended to by a first respond paramedic. A foil blanket had been wrapped around his shoulders; his back was against the parapet wall. April left Skeeter at the cordon and walked over. She introduced herself and crouched down.

  ‘How’s things?’ She looked at the paramedic and then at the officer.

  ‘He’s fine, bit of shock considering that bloody mess he discovered. Is it hardly surprising? Fifth week into the job too. You could say a baptism of fire.’ He tapped the officer’s arm. ‘In at the bloody deep end I’d have to say, but I guess that’s the job we all face. We never know what we’ll find from one day to the next. I’ll leave you two and clear up. Guy in the car needs no help.’

  April pulled a face to look like an accepting smile.

  ‘Thank you, what about the blanket?’ PCSO Ralph Curtis was about to stand and pull the blanket from beneath him.

  ‘Later, I’ll come back. You just relax and do as I’ve told you.’ The paramedic stuck up his thumb and moved away.

  ‘DI Decent. I’m SIO. Some find you’ve made there.’

  ‘Don’t think I’ve helped by throwing up over the poor sod. I’ve never seen as much blood in such a small space.’ He paused, bringing the paper bowl that resembled a grey bowler hat from his side and to his mouth before retching. Nothing emerged. He wiped his mouth. ‘Sorry! I received a call to check on a car. It was said to be in here. I started at the bottom and worked my way up. Knew the make and colour of the car I was looking for so it wasn’t long before I came across it. It was just about matching the car with the correct plate number. Fortunately, I came up the ramp, over there and saw it straight away.’

  ‘Did you see anyone leaving?’

  ‘When I arrived to check the place, I thought it prudent to walk up the road into the carpark. It’s next to that taken by the cars leaving, just in case the one I was looking for buggered off as I was entering by the pedestrian stairwell.’

  ‘Sensible,’ April encouraged although she realised the killer might well have slipped out unseen. ‘Go on.’

  ‘When I saw it, I coul
d see the state of the windscreen. I thought it had been vandalised but then I saw the body. I’ve never … It was the eyes and then the blood. It seemed to be hanging from the roof lining, not like normal blood. It looked gooey, if that makes any sense, and almost deep black. The neck wound was more like the mouth and the face was the strangest thing. One half was covered in blood and the other looked like grey wax. That’s when I threw up.’

  ‘I can understand. Go on.’

  ‘I called it in. Two members of the public helped me secure the area and within ten to fifteen minutes the helicopter was over but I guess the perpetrator was well gone. Tell me, ma’am, what kind of person does this to a fellow human being in broad daylight in a public place?’

  ‘Between you and me, the same person who’s killed two others in a fortnight but keep that to yourself.’

  ‘Did you have your bodycam operating?’

  ‘No, I thought I was just identifying a car. Forget the thing’s there half the time.’

  ‘Thanks. Take care. We’ll be in touch. Make sure you take any support offered. These experiences have a bad habit of coming back up in here.’ She pointed to his head. ‘They can bite back very hard later. Have none of this stiff upper lip shit.’

  ‘Paramedic said that. Thanks.’

  April stood and walked back to Skeeter. CSI had screened the car and were photographing from all angles.

  ‘I’ve requested all CCTV from here and the surrounds. The poor sod was lured here, just like the others, and it was Carla’s spoofed phone I bet. I’ll clear with Mason but I want the reporting restriction lifted and I want all her known friends informed individually. Somehow, Wicca, this is one we might have prevented if we’d acted differently.’

  ‘When we arrived, I heard the helicopter and it made me think of a noise we heard when we were at Carla’s crime scene. Not too dissimilar to the CSI drone only theirs was louder being closer. There was no helicopter present, police or otherwise but now for some reason I think it might have been a drone. I thought it was a motorbike when I was there, but come to think of it, the bike probably just masked it. When it had gone, so too did the noise I’d heard. Why does the idea of a winged goddess keep plaguing me? I’ll nip out to Mill Farm on my way home. I have a hunch.’

  ‘Talk to the lads at HQ, they use drones constantly as you know. Don’t, whatever you do, mention the time when they lost the first one in the Mersey. I’m sure they received the usual briefing. Or the fact they were operating without permission when they made their first arrest, otherwise you’ll get nowhere.’ She laughed. ‘I guess they received a right bollocking. Besides, the public immediately think of 1984 so they’re cagey about the technology.’

  He placed the coverall along with the gloves and knife within the black bin bag and tied the handle. It was small and he managed to deposit it over the concrete edge at the start of the footbridge linking Victoria Bridge Road to Back Virginia Street. The bridge crossed multiple railway tracks, and the railway banking at the start and end was heavily overgrown. There appeared to have been no one there and he dropped the bag. It vanished within the undergrowth in the area between the gardens and the track.

  Moving to the centre of the bridge, the view of the helicopter announced Stuart Groves had been found. Leaning on the rough concrete his gaze followed the black-and-yellow craft until it disappeared from view. He turned his attention to the railway lines that appeared littered with boots, bottles and cans, the flotsam and jetsam of human laziness. If they can’t move that from the tracks, they’ll not find what’s in the bushes and brambles, he thought. Groves was the third person. It left one more and now the challenge would begin. They were now warned, but also hopefully concerned, if not frightened. After all, that was the purpose, to do to them what they happily did to others. ‘What’s round comes around and we reap what we sow,’ he mumbled to himself as he dropped down the steps as if nothing had happened. The last would reap the whirlwind, he was certain of that no matter what happened to him. Considering his actions of the last hour he felt quite victorious and there was a skip in his step.

  Chapter 17

  Skeeter glanced at the field that had held Carla Sharpe’s corpse. There was no trace of the murder but in her mind’s eye the image of the scarecrow was clearly visible. The furrows had been repaired, the blood-drenched soil turned and lost to history. The pigeons were back at work collectively searching and occasionally pecking green shoots. The deterrent had been removed. She drove on parking in the cobbled farmyard where she was quickly greeted by a woman who launched herself from the door of the farmhouse.

  ‘We’ve nothing to say. The police have told us to say nothing, so please, if you’re a reporter just go.’

  Removing her ID from her pocket Skeeter held it out. ‘I am the police, Mrs Unsworth. I met you briefly when DCI Mason called on the day of the discovery.’

  She took the ID and looked directly at Skeeter. ‘I remember you, the eyes. Sorry. We’ve had a few people telephone and a couple have turned up here asking for information. One was even seen down by the field. Worse than the bloody birds! My husband will be so angry if he sees any treading the crops!’

  ‘The reporting restrictions will be lifted later so it might get worse. You’re sure to get flowers left if gossip leaks the location … people do both, I’m afraid. They’re probably doing it with the best of intentions but it has to be said, you’re a bit isolated here, so hopefully you’ll not get too many. Believe me, Mrs Unsworth, it doesn’t last. I need five minutes with your husband if he’s about.’

  ‘He’s in the bottom barn. Come. I was taking him a brew. Fancy one, do you?’

  Skeeter carried both mugs in the direction she had been instructed to take. A Jack Russell bolted from the large open doors but paused on seeing her, giving a sharp bark and then holding its ground.

  ‘Quiet, Jack!’ The instruction from within the barn made no difference. The dog barked again.

  Original name, Skeeter thought as she called the farmer’s name, causing the dog to run towards her.

  ‘Jack! He’s bloody soft. All piss and wind. You’re the copper who was here the other day. Is one of them my brew, love? It’s the Bowie eyes if that’s not too rude to say. No offence intended.’

  She walked forward as the dog nipped at her ankles, but he did not bite. She handed the farmer his mug. ‘I was, and everyone says it, so no offence taken. DS Warlock, Serious Crime. Firstly, we’ve lifted press restrictions so you should expect a few unwelcome visitors. Always happens, but I didn’t come here to tell you that. When I was here and we were all down by the body, I thought I heard a kind of buzzing, like a drone. I searched in the direction of the buzzing but I couldn’t see anything neither did it last long. I wondered if there’s anything locally that might generate a noise like that. Machinery, pumps, anything?’

  Unsworth paused. ‘Any relation to the old Archbishop of Liverpool?’

  ‘No.’ Skeeter sighed. This was getting to be like hard work.

  ‘Not a common name, that.’ He sipped his tea before throwing the dregs across the yard. ‘Noise? Funny you asked. I thought it was my bloody ear wax. When I went to take a look that day, once the racket of the birds had calmed, I heard a similar noise. I looked to see what it was as it seemed to come from over yonder.’ He pointed in the direction of a copse of trees positioned a good half-mile away, ‘Could see nothing. Like you said, it didn’t last long. I’d forgotten about it to tell you the truth.’

  ‘Have you seen anyone flying a drone recently?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, apart from the CSI lot, but that was late in the day when you’d gone. If I had I’d have stopped them. I want to get one to check and photograph the crops. I was going to ask them, but they were far too busy. For me, I could get a clear view of areas where there’s crop failure – bird’s eye view, like. I read about using one in the farmers’ magazines. A couple of fellow farmers I chat to at meetings have them. So, no, not seen anyone here with one. Saying that, lov
e, I’ve not been looking. Haven’t heard it since either.’

  Skeeter reached and took his mug. ‘I’ll take it back. Thanks for your help. I’ll have a word with the local lads to pop in over the next few days to make sure you’re not pestered. Once the report goes out, they will come.’

  ‘Aye, and they’ll get a tongue thrashing if they do, love. Worked too hard on that field to get it bloody trampled … there might be a second killing.’ He winked holding up both hands. ‘Kidding!’

  She smiled, turned and walked towards the farmhouse. Jack barked twice but followed Unsworth back into the barn.

  It was the third YouTube video she had watched as she ate cheese and onion on toast and sipped a bottle of Prospect Silver Tally ale. She had Googled “Merseyside Police Drones” and was reminded of the loss of the £13,000 drone and had a quiet chuckle. She had heard about it during training; it had occurred years before at the birth of the technology. Now it was very different, she was aware of just how efficient the drone pilots were. These tools were a vital resource when linked with the force and the emergency services. She had seen the results of their work on many occasions. From watching the videos what did impress her was the way technology had developed over such a short time and now very sophisticated drones were readily available for purchase by the general public. Many had to be registered with the CAA, but there were some that were still extremely capable that legally did not have to comply.

  ‘Nike, the winged goddess,’ she wrote down above the notes she had made, before collecting her beer and a rug that lay on the back of the sofa. She walked into the garden. The sky was a mix of colours. It was dark directly above her and awash with various shades of inky blue. Her eyes rested on the tree-topped horizon. The layer of aquamarine seemed an incongruous hue but there was clearly a line just above a fiery orangey yellow. An owl called from somewhere within the silhouetted trees as a heron flew large, its shape distinctive, its flight steady. ‘Prophetic Wicca.’ She watched it vanish on silent wing into the darkness.