Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2) Read online

  ‘Before we jump to conclusions.’ April glared at Fred and Tony. ‘He wasn’t in the diary, probably a social call. If they’ve been an item for years then he could also be a friend of other members of staff. We’ll find that out this afternoon. Sorry, you were about to say?’

  ‘There’s also another member of staff. Carlos, Carlos Briggs, apparently named after Carla for no other reason than that he learned much from her when he first started. Modelled himself on her ways.’

  ‘Naivety or infatuation?’ Lucy asked.

  Skeeter just raised her shoulders. ‘Something I’m keen to follow up. His real name is Brian Briggs. I ran a check early this morning. No form but I had a nag about him. I think he saw Carla on the day she went missing but that’s only my guess.’ She explained to the team her rationale.

  Chapter 7

  Lucy parked on Lord Street, Southport. It always amazed her that the gulls’ shrill screams seemed to dominate the place but with so many cafés and takeaways the possibility for a free meal was ever present. She had managed to locate and contact the landlord of the property which Carla and Callum had previously rented. The flat was set within the row of Victorian buildings that made up part of the façade of Lord Street. The shops beneath were protected by a wrought iron glazed canopy that might encourage estate agents to term the street as a Victorian canopied boulevard. She reflected momentarily and wondered if the canopy’s original design was to keep the gentry free from aerial bombardment, whether that be from the rain or the bird droppings. However, the street was now only a shadow of its former self, as much of the grandeur was lost. Many of the shops stood empty and the canopy was neglected in certain parts. The door between two shops was the clue that there were flats above. A row of four buttons was linked to an intercom.

  The name Craufurd Gaskell was the first on the list. He was the man she had come to see, the landlord. She pressed the button. The speaker crackled momentarily and a voice was heard like someone clearing their throat.

  ‘Mr Gaskell, It’s DC Lucy Teraoka. We have an appointment.’

  The lock mechanism clicked and the door sprung open an inch or two.

  ‘Come up. Top floor.’

  Lucy was amazed at the length of the passageway. There were no doors to either side, only the stairs situated at the far end. At each floor level the flight turned through one hundred and eighty degrees after staging at a landing. A numbered door was to the right and a patterned Victorian leaded window ran from the ceiling to a metre from the floor. On the upper landing Gaskell was waiting.

  ‘One gets used to the climb, DC Teraoka. Lovely name by the way.’

  ‘And yours. Never come across that Christian name before. It’s unusual.’

  ‘It was the middle name of a famous racing driver my father was fond of and saw race on one occasion. The greatest driver never to be a world champion. Sir Stirling Moss, sadly now no longer with us but remembered by many and how will I ever be able to forget him? My father, as you can guess, was a petrolhead.’ He pointed to the open door. ‘It’s worth the climb to be away from street level, particularly on a Friday and Saturday night, especially in the summer months. We have a number of boy racers who treat the street as a track. Come in. How may I help?’

  The room was elegant. The ceilings were high and edged by a cornice made up of an intricate plaster frieze. The room could be classed as minimalist. Dark leather chairs were carefully positioned giving a casual yet precise order. Even the wooden floorboards were painted a delicate shade of light grey. Colour was added to the white walls by the large unframed abstract canvases hanging on each. There were no curtains nor blinds covering the windows. It was stunning.

  ‘I do hope it’s not too rude to mention but you have a fabulous room,’ Lucy offered.

  ‘Not at all, it’s what I do, it’s my job. I’ve always enjoyed designing interiors. I worked on all of these four apartments. Each is very different. May I offer you coffee?’ He moved towards the door to the far side of the room.

  ‘Thank you, but no. Carla Sharpe and Callum Smith. They rented one of these for quite some time?’

  He returned and sat opposite.

  ‘Indeed. They took a three-year lease on number two but unfortunately things didn’t work out. They were nice enough people and I had few issues during their tenancy. However, we had to cut short the contract owing to their personal circumstances.’

  ‘Splitting up?’

  Craufurd Gaskell smiled, the sort of smile that was a cross between trying to convey the circumstances were acceptable, and anger. The facial expression appeared quickly but took a little longer to dissipate.

  ‘You mentioned the word “few”. Anything we should know about?’

  Standing, he went over to the windows that seemed to fill the wall. He looked out along Southport’s main thoroughfare. ‘I had a number of complaints from another tenant, regarding noise. Their parties could get a little, to put it diplomatically, on the loud side, and although they didn’t break their agreement, let’s say they sailed very close to the wind. The consolation with apartments of this age is that they were built well and it takes a lot for sound to travel from one apartment to another. When my father converted them, he used the best sound deadening materials available at that time and so they have additional insulation. But, they were very contrite, and sent flowers and an apology to the neighbour. The problems that came later were the rows.’ He turned back to look directly at Lucy. ‘He would kick her out, hide her key and refuse her entry. It wasn’t frequent but often enough. If it were my partner, they’d only do it the once.’

  He moved away from the window and stood facing her.

  ‘Were you aware of any violence from either?’ Lucy felt a little uncomfortable as he now stood over her.

  ‘One could never be sure. From up here I have a direct view of the area around the entry. Come.’

  Lucy moved to the window. Her discomfort returned as he moved closer.

  ‘See? I’ve seen her standing there in the rain or in the cold looking extremely dejected. She was a lovely girl. When things were going well, they were a lovely couple.’

  ‘Did you help?’ She moved away from the window to put space between them. She could see the immediate dilemma on his face as he appeared to bite his lower lip.

  ‘I did, yes, I did. I went down to check if she was ok. On one occasion she appeared to have a swelling, above her right eye I think it was. She told me she’d walked into one of the street’s canopy supports. Happens a lot, especially to tourists too busy looking at the shops’ windows, and bang! Now, with many of the shops gone it’s people staring into their mobile phones!’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I brought her here. She assured me that she wouldn’t go directly to her flat; we’d pass it on the way up, you see. I suggested Callum might just need time. She listened to reason and so she can’t have been too drunk then.’

  ‘Did she stay long and did she give a reason for the problem?’

  ‘An hour or so until things calmed down. On a couple of occasions, she stayed longer, but as to the length of time I couldn’t be sure. It seemed little things caused the major issues, clothes left on the floor, and drink.’

  ‘His or her drinking issue?’

  ‘She told me it was her but then she could have been covering for him.’

  ‘What was the state of the apartment when they left?’ Lucy stood again. This would be her last question.

  ‘It was immaculate. They paid in full, and also presented me with a case of red wine as a thank you for my being understanding about the curtailed lease. These things happen and one has to be generous. Besides, I liked them as people and as a couple. And on a mercenary level you hope that if they are treated fairly the word spreads.’

  ‘Neither wanted to stay as a single occupant?’

  ‘I don’t think they could afford it. Carla did ask but as I say, it’s not cheap.’

  Lucy turned to leave. ‘Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.
’

  ‘Saying that the apartment was too expensive for single occupancy or so we thought, someone took a short-term lease of four months immediately after they left. Knew about the flat, having attended a party there apparently.’

  ‘Do you have a name and forwarding address?’

  ‘I think so. Moved into a beautiful apartment in Liverpool. Art dealer. Shall I send it on or are you willing to wait? It could take a while.’

  ‘As soon as, Mr Gaskell, thanks. I’ve an errand to run so I’ll pop back in thirty minutes if you think that’s adequate time to locate it?’

  Gaskell smiled and escorted her to the door.

  ‘Just one more thing. Are you married, Mr Gaskell?’

  ‘I really don’t think that has anything to do with the police or your enquiries. However, the answer is no if it puts your mind at rest.’

  As Lucy stepped out onto Lord Street again, the gull’s screams drew her attention. She checked the time and decided to call April with her findings. Considering the meticulous order of Gaskell’s apartment, she did not believe he would be so disorganised as to not have that information immediately to hand. She suspected there was a reason for not divulging or retrieving it immediately.

  ‘Thanks, Lucy, I think your suspicion is justified from what you say. Make sure you come away with it.’

  Chapter 8

  April took the call as she was preparing for the interview with Smith. Skeeter had been taking notes as the phone was on speaker.

  ‘Thanks, Lucy.’

  ‘Another box ticked, and regarding the apartment, we can confirm this with him. Let’s not mention our going to Gaskell’s apartment. He might tell us but he might be unaware. We’ll keep it as an ace card.’

  Her phone rang again. ‘Decent.’ She listened, her eyes staring straight towards Skeeter as she jotted a note and pushed it to her: A BODY FOUND! She added further details.

  ‘Close it down. I’m on my way.’

  ‘Christ! Carla?’ Skeeter prematurely pronounced as she jumped to her feet. ‘You were right!’

  April was already clearing her things into the top drawer. ‘Rearrange the interview with Smith and meet me downstairs. Not Carla but Cameron Jennings.’ She paused allowing her colleague to wrestle with the information. ‘One of Carla’s listed friends.’

  ‘Bloody hell! Will do. Downstairs.’

  There was no need for the siren. The concealed blue strobes of the plain car were enough to allow them to move with greater urgency through the light traffic. Skeeter drove whilst April communicated with Control.

  ‘Jennings’s car has been found well away from the body. It’s positioned in a lay-by at the end of Banks Road and Ralph’s Wife’s Lane. According to residents it’s been there since early this morning.’

  Skeeter glanced sideways momentarily, a look of confusion on her face. ‘We’re not going there? The body’s located where exactly?’

  ‘The end of Marshside Road and Marine Drive. Fortunately, the road has no development only a carpark and rough ground where the body was located. Someone flying a drone discovered it. He’d been flying some distance away from the carpark. On reviewing the images he’d taken it showed two people moving onto the waste ground behind the gate and crossing to a banked area. His drone was then flown out and away from the scene. In his statement he hadn’t seen them whilst he was flying, something to do with the light on screen. He only noticed when he stopped to change the battery. His curiosity was spiked, he said, as he’d seen no one other than the occasional passing car. Fortunately for us, before he packed away he flew it over that area. Curiosity. It was then he saw the figure curled on the mound. He lowered the drone and realised what he’d found. It’s here.’ April held up her phone. She glanced at the still image.

  ‘What’s the clarity like on the videos?’ Skeeter turned onto Marshside Road and could see the police car parked across and blocking the road. She slowed.

  ‘It’s with the tech people who are trying to enhance it. Unfortunately, the drone was at about 200 feet and nearly a quarter of a mile away. It was returning when it captured the video of the two people. It was only a brief sighting too. According to his statement he was turning the machine towards his position so they were only caught for seconds. The battery had been very low and he had needed to get it back. However, the second flight shows the dead man clearly. We’ll see that for ourselves shortly.’

  ‘If you heard any noise when you thought you were in an isolated spot and about to kill someone would you not think twice?’ Skeeter asked as she listened. There was a strange silence only broken by an occasional bird’s call.

  ‘The drone probably couldn’t be heard either for wind, bird noise or its distance. They’re not, I’m told, as noisy as you might think.’

  They were directed to drive a further one hundred yards towards the junction of Marshside and Marine Drive. A number of vehicles parked along the road told the story. The carpark had been left locked as it was only due to open at 8.30am. They stood waiting to be escorted to the crime scene manager. The light breeze crept across the large expanse of land bringing with it the smell of brine.

  ‘You can smell the sea, I used to think it was ozone,’ Skeeter announced with a smile. ‘How wrong I was’. The sea could not be clearly seen, it was too far away at this part of the north-west coast. ‘To think where we’re standing was once the strandline and now the sea is way over there.’

  A gull flying low tumbled and cried drawing Skeeter’s gaze, admiration amplifying her thought. ‘I could watch them for hours. That’s why people flock here, I guess. It’s beautiful, desolate and yet a stone’s throw from Southport.’

  Skeeter allowed herself a few minutes more as she scanned the horizon from left to right starting at the Southport Pier some distance away. She followed what she believed to be a line of the sea but it was difficult to tell until she stopped looking directly across the Ribble and Alt Estuaries towards Lytham. Beyond she could clearly see Blackpool’s famous tower, a needle, erect along the flat western coast.

  ‘The drone flyer must have been on the carpark or further out down that path. It goes quite some way from the road. If he were, that’s why he couldn’t see the activity over that banking. Flying rules suggest he would have to be a number of metres away.’

  ‘From all accounts he was, sadly.’

  ‘DI Decent!’ A strong female voice called from the far edge of the carpark.

  Skeeter and April moved quickly. They both immediately showed their ID. ‘I’m Decent and this is DS Warlock.’

  ‘No relation to Archbishop Derek?’ the officer asked whilst scanning their cards, adding their names and the time to the Crime Scene Register.

  ‘No, sorry. Wigan girl who’s probably a lost cause in that department, even for someone as mighty as he.’ She glanced heavenly and pulled a face.

  ‘Body’s over there within the confines of that bunding. Looks as though he’s having a nap. Never seen a corpse in such a relaxed position … mind, not seen too many fortunately. The doctor’s there now and it’s with the crime scene investigators. There’s no evidence of a struggle, as I said you’d have thought he was having a kip. I take it you’ve received details of the discovery, the drone?’ She watched as both nodded in the affirmative. ‘Who knows how long the corpse would have lain there had the chap with the drone not flown over the site and then checked what he’d filmed. Poor bugger, then flew it close to the … Yes, sorry, you’ve seen the statement.’

  Skeeter smiled but just wanted to get to the crime scene.

  ‘It was fairly early this morning from all accounts. He said he’d arrived at about five but he couldn’t be exact. Cycled, electric he told me, and he’d hidden it in the rough over on the bunding before heading out towards the sea. The wind is calm at that hour most days wherever you are and you can be assured of usually being alone. It gets busier later. Mainly runners and cyclists with possibly the odd early bird watcher. This area, particularly the area where the body was
found, was used for sand extraction right up until 2011 or so, and then it had to be closed down as extraction agreements finished. The industrial scale digging of sand is the reason for the bunding and the planting along the top to blot the original machinery from the landscape. The lagoons positioned across the road were all part of the industry as can be seen from this.’ She waved a piece of laminated paper but then returned it under the electronic tablet. ‘The area’s fenced at the front where there are two gates. The one further away is the less secure. It’s to prevent unwelcome overnight stops. With those banks you couldn’t see what was going on. There’s a concrete run-in to each entrance. Cars parked close to the gates would only be seen from passing vehicles. Here, look.’ The officer retrieved the laminated piece of paper and this time passed over what was a plan of the site. ‘The body was located here where the site office once stood. It’s on a small mound and marked with the red cross. The bunding is the highest point in the area and runs to either side but it’s lower at the sea front because the original site was reduced and a temporary earth barrier was erected. People are free to walk the area and I believe there are plans to level all of the bunding and turn it back as it once was but I guess that’s down to funding so we’ll not hold our breath.’

  ‘Thanks.’ April moved closer to the crime scene, orientating the plan before turning towards the bunding to compare the site against the diagram. She swiftly assessed her position and the location of the body that had been marked as a red ink cross. The bunding, built to conceal the original working area, was like a green abscess on a sandy, brown-yellowy skin. The sea grass and the bushes planted along the uppermost ridge had been tortured into a submissive pose that clearly defined the prevailing wind.

  ‘I can see why bird watchers use this place in winter as it offers some degree of shelter.’