Simon Kernick - The Murder Exchange

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted, ‘but let’s say he goes up to the house, takes a look, as any inquisitive thirteen-year-old would, and sees something he shouldn’t. He gets spotted, is taken inside the house, and he’s then murdered because his killer or killers have no choice but to get rid of him. They then dump his body, making it look like a sex crime in an effort to cover their tracks. Just like they did with Miriam Fox that time. I know it may well not be the likeliest scenario but it’s got to be a possibility.’

Knox sighed. ‘I understand your desire to get a result on the Jones case, John. I know how much it affected you, all of us, but we’re meant to be concentrating on the Matthews investigation.’

‘I know, but let’s face it, from what we’ve found out so far, the Holtzes or one or more of their associates had at least something to do with the murder of Matthews. Maybe Iversson’s involved there too. And the problem we’ve got is it’s difficult to get anyone to talk, but if somehow we can link members of their organization with what happened to Robert Jones, maybe we can loosen a few tongues and make some headway on both cases. No one wants to protect child killers.’

‘You know how much it costs to get a team to give a house a full once-over?’

‘Yes, sir, it’s a lot, but we’ve got a lead. It’s not a great one but it’s something, and on the Jones case particularly we haven’t got any others, and haven’t had for months. I know that SO7 are potentially interested in this too,’ I added, trying to attach some authority to my request. ‘It might give them a route into the Holtzes.’

‘Maybe they should pay for the SOCO team, then.’

‘It’s still our case, sir.’

Knox sat there not saying anything, sipping thoughtfully on his coffee. I knew I’d boxed him into a corner. He could say no and claim there simply wasn’t enough in what I was saying, but if he made that decision and then, at some point down the line, it turned out that this had indeed been what had happened to Robert Jones, the buck would stop with him. That was one of the problems with twenty-first-century policing. Such was the power of technology that important evidence could be found years after the event. Although this could mean far more convictions, it also meant that the mistakes of police officers investigating crimes were forever open to exposure. Knox, like the consummate politician he was, decided to play it safe.

‘What do you think, Dave?’ he asked Berrin.

‘I think the sarge is right, sir. It’s got to be worth looking into. And it may well help the Matthews case.’

Knox finally nodded. ‘All right, we’ll go with it.’

Iversson

‘Have you got the money ready?’

‘I told you, I need more time.’

‘So you haven’t?’

‘Look, you don’t know who you’re fucking around with here. If you don’t let him go, I’ll be coming after you, you hear me?’

‘I’m not listening. Now, you hear me. We’ll start pulling your boy’s fingernails out unless you do what we say, when we say it.’

‘If you touch one fucking hair on his head-’

‘Then what? What will you do exactly?’

‘I will kill you. Understand that. I will find you and I will saw your fucking legs off.’

‘Nothing’ll happen to him if you give us the money we’ve requested. Why haven’t you got it?’

‘What guarantee have I got that he’s even still alive?’

‘There’s no point us killing him. He hasn’t seen our faces and he doesn’t know who we are.’

‘You hurt him and I’ll hunt you down. There’ll be no fucking hiding place.’

‘You’ve said that already. It wasn’t frightening the first time. Now, have you got the money or not? Answer me now.’

There was a pause. ‘Yeah, I’ve got the money.’

‘Good. Now, listen carefully. At six-thirty p.m. tomorrow, be in the rear car park of the Post House Hotel on the Epping High Road. It’s on the southern outskirts of Epping, just before the road crosses the M25. Have your mobile with you, as well as the money. And do not bring anyone else. Do you understand?’

‘How do I know you’re not going to have a pop at me?’

‘All I want’s that money. Nothing else. Be at the Post House tomorrow and I’ll call you then.’

I thought I was getting good at this as I stepped out of the phone box into the light morning drizzle.

Gallan

After much persuasion, I managed to push the DCI into organizing the SOCO team to start their painstaking work that Friday morning. I watched them arrive from across the street, hoping they would turn up something, however small, that could solve the murder of the thirteen-year-old paperboy.

The previous evening I’d gone round alone to Robert’s parents’ house to tell them of the new developments and to remind them not to get too optimistic. They’d both nodded in understanding, and had thanked me for my help and my thoughtfulness in keeping them informed. I’d told them I was just doing my job, and Mrs Jones had put her hand on my arm and told me I was doing it well. And I’d thought then that, whatever happened with this lead, I would never stop until I found the person who’d killed their son and brought him to justice. It was why I was a copper. It was my vocation in life. The constant desire to give some sort of justice to people for whom fate had denied it.

I waited there for a long time as the white-overalled SOCO officers strode in and out of 41F Runmayne Avenue with their various paraphernalia. Only when I was satisfied they were taking the job seriously, that they would scour the place until they’d covered every square inch of it, did I finally turn and make my way back to the station.

When I got back to the incident room, Berrin was just coming off the phone. ‘That was Martin Leppel,’ he said, as I went and got myself a coffee.

‘Has he got together that list of people we were after yet?’ I knew Berrin had been hassling him about it all week.

He nodded. ‘Yeah, he faxed it through about an hour ago. That’s what I was phoning him about.’

‘Anything interesting on it?’ I asked, heading to his desk with the coffee.

‘Here, take a look.’ He passed over the typewritten list of names and dates and I scanned down it, immediately seeing what had caught his attention.

‘Well, well, well. So, Craig McBride was there.’

‘Twice. And for a total of nearly eighteen months. Leppel remembers him well. Says he was a right nasty piece of work, but definitely not a drug addict. Apparently some of his colleagues used to take the piss out of him because for all his so-called hardness he was petrified of needles.’

‘I knew there was nothing natural about his death. But that arsehole Burley’s saying it was a self-administered overdose.’

‘Capper told me this morning that all they’re charging Jean Tanner with is possession of a Class A drug.’

I sighed. ‘I can’t see why they don’t at least charge her with the illegal disposal of a dead body. At this rate, we’ll be lucky if she ends up with a fine.’

‘Maybe we should try and talk to her.’

‘Maybe.’ I sipped my coffee, wishing there was something I could lean on her with. But what did I have that Neil Vamen didn’t? There was no way I could put pressure on her and she’d know it. But in spite of everything, I’m an optimist, and that means I don’t give up. I was just going to have to think of a way.

‘Anyway, good work, Dave. You’ve done well.’

Berrin shrugged. ‘I’m not entirely useless, Sarge. I can do more than just routine enquiries, you know.’