Nick Oldham - Hidden Witness

All nodded silently, even FB.

‘Oh, sorry guys,’ Alex Bent said apologetically and reached into his pocket to come out with his vibrating mobile phone. He checked the display and said, ‘I probably need to get this.’

‘OK, go ahead,’ Henry said and Bent sidled out of the room.

Donaldson felt like his head was about to explode. He had developed a huge arc of pain over his eyes and if he had suffered from them, he would have said it was a migraine. It was staggering in its intensity, like a hammer drill boring out holes behind his eyes.

‘Are you all right?’ Henry asked, picking up on his friend’s condition.

‘Stress headache.’

Alex Bent came back in, a serious look on his face.

‘Henry — the mobile phone stolen from the Goth… it’s been switched on, the phone company’s triangulating its position now, as we speak.’

Ellen Thompson had been a public enquiry assistant at Blackpool police station for just over six months. She was twenty-three years old, a single mother with a two-year-old son and lived on and off with her partner, Lee Clarke, in a rented terrace house just to the north of the town centre. She had no previous convictions, otherwise she would never have got the job, but Lee Clarke had. He was a drug user, small time thief and handler of stolen goods.

At the time of Ellen’s application for a job as a PEA, she and Lee were having one of their regular splits from each other. Consequently, the rather flimsy background check on her did not reveal Lee’s presence in her life. Ellen had been desperate for a decent, regular job with a bit of flexibility in it and being a PEA, whilst not massively remunerated, was good work, well within her capabilities and actually pretty interesting.

However, two months after proudly securing the job, Lee Clarke came back on the scene. A bad boy, full of charm, and try as she might, Ellen could not resist him and his bad influence.

On top of which, the fact he was the father of her son was an extra pull on her heart strings.

At first, on his return to her life he was, as usual, remorseful, brimming with positives and promises. He said he’d put his drug habit behind him, kicked thieving, kicked booze.

And she fell for it.

Then her money started to disappear and he was obviously back on the line.

Money was tight and he needed more and more to fund the habit of a lifetime.

Then they had the conversation. ‘Do you get cash handed into you?’

‘Occasionally.’

‘Other stuff?’

‘Lots of stuff, but we mostly tell people to keep what they find.’

Lee looked pensively at her, his devious mind working the angles.

He continued to steal and waste even more money.

Then, as things became tight again and desperation grew, she committed the first theft at his suggestion. Cash needed to feed a baby. Fifty pounds found by an old woman on the bus station. Ellen said she should hand it over because someone had already reported it lost, which was a lie. She entered it into the found property book behind the desk at the police station and a couple of days later, the owner’s signature appeared and the cash was handed back. Apparently.

A couple of other thefts followed the same route. Only small amounts, but a great help all the same. And then a mobile phone was handed in by one of the smelly town centre drunks who was always in the station, either under arrest for being drunk and disorderly, or simply because he could not stay away from the cop shop. It drew him like a magnet and he was often escorted off the premises. His boozed up breath even made it through the security screen the day he came in when Ellen was on duty. He had obviously been imbibing for a number of hours. His words slurred loudly and he rambled on about being certain two lads had robbed him. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure if he’d spent his money, but could definitely recall a dream in which two youths had been through his pockets and nicked his cash — and his cider. Later that night, he’d been staggering through the streets when he kicked something on the floor, which turned out to be a mobile phone someone had dropped.

He pushed it on to the sliding tray, then turned and rolled out of the station, waving dismissively. A drunk like him had no use for such a device.

Ellen took the phone, saw it was a good model, put it into her locker to sneak home later. The appearance of the firearms PC asking awkward questions about a phone had spooked her and she decided she had better take it home, just in case further inquiries were made.

It didn’t matter if the phone had been blocked.

Lee knew someone who could unblock it, then it could be sold on and would be worth quite a few quid.

Though Ellen had only come on at four that day, she wanted an early finish. Lee had been on to her continually, calling and texting her frequently on her mobile, pleading for her to come home. Pack in the stupid job. Come home and fuck, then go out and get rat-arsed together. The kid had been farmed out to her mother, so that wouldn’t be anything to worry about. He was high or drunk or both, and the problem was, Ellen wanted to be too. The quick answer was to throw a sickie. She simply told the communications room sergeant she was going home because she felt nauseous with women’s problems.

She left at nine thirty with the phone in her bag. Curiosity made her switch it on as she got into her battered Ford Fiesta in the car park. The message that came up said, ‘This phone is barred from use.’ No surprise there.

They ran out to their cars. Henry to his Mondeo, FB to his massive four-by-four Lexus, Bill Robbins to the Ford Galaxy belonging to the ARV unit, Bent to his VW Golf, Donaldson and Jerry Tope to the Fiat 500, and Rik Dean to the Mercedes Coupe that actually belonged to Henry’s sister.

Henry stopped mid-track, seeing the Keystone Kops side of this surge of manpower. ‘I think this is a bit of overkill, don’t you fellas?’ He gestured with a shrug and his hands.

FB said, ‘You guys get on with it — I don’t do operational,’ effectively withdrawing himself from the job, much to Henry’s relief.

‘Bill, Jerry, Alex and Rik — you jump in the Galaxy. Karl, you come with me.’

The relief in the American’s face was evident. He had given Jerry Tope a ride to the mortuary in the Fiat 500 and the shoehorning of the two men into it had not been a pretty sight.

‘We can come back for the other cars as and when,’ Henry said and they all piled into the allocated vehicles. Henry flicked open the glove compartment and grabbed his PR, switching it on. He called into comms. He told them who was in each vehicle and said, ‘Please go ahead with the directions from the phone company. And I want a dedicated operator on this for the time being,’ he ordered loftily. The power of a superintendent.

‘Roger, that will be me,’ the operator responded.

‘Update, please,’ Henry said.

‘At the moment the phone signal is still moving northwards, still in Blackpool.’

‘Roger that,’ Henry said.

‘DI Dean, I also received that,’ Rik said over his PR on behalf of the crew in the Galaxy.

‘Superintendent Christie to DI Dean, let’s get moving then, please.’

The two cars sped off the mortuary car park and headed towards Blackpool.

‘You OK,’ Henry asked Donaldson as the Mondeo shot through a set of lights outside the hospital.

‘So-so… shaken and stirred,’ Donaldson admitted. ‘I can’t believe what I think I know… and that e-fit, hell, that made me shiver… the likeness. That lad Carter must have good eyesight.’

‘To see and remember, and be able to describe a face in such detail… he must have eyes like a shithouse rat.’