| |
––––––––
After about fifteen minutes, an ambulance accompanied by two police patrol cars approached at speed and came to an abrupt halt. Upon hearing the sirens, Kenny Salveson had gone to the main road to stand by his car. He directed the emergency services to the injured man. Whilst he’d been waiting he had wandered around the grassy area and had once again stumbled upon the bundle of discarded clothing which to his horror he discovered was another male. The victim was face down in a slight hollow but by the light of his torch, Kenny could the back of his head. Kenny had bravely felt for a pulse but found none.
‘There’s a guy over there,’ he said to the uniformed officer. ‘He’s dead. I hadn’t seen him when I made the emergency call. I thought someone had dumped some clothing.’
‘OK, sir, stand back. We’ll take it from here. Please go and sit in the first patrol car. A detective will be here soon and will want to speak to you.’
‘OK, mate,’ said Kenny. He had texted his wife but she hadn’t replied. No doubt she was asleep. Fortunately, his bowels seemed to be settling down now and he’d not been sick for about half an hour. He realised he would need to tell the police that the vomit and diarrhoea belonged to him.
The ambulance crew quickly loaded the injured man on to a stretcher and very soon the victim would be on his way to hospital. Kenny could see headlights from another car and the dark coloured Ford Mondeo parked up just in front of the row of vehicles. The detective strode purposely over to the uniformed officers securing the site with blue and white police tape and one pointed at the patrol car which was Kenny’s temporary refuge.
Kenny climbed out of the car and found himself looking up to the newcomer who was at least six inches taller with a lean physique, characteristic of a basketball player.
‘Evening sir, I’m Detective Sergeant Andy Walters. Can you tell me briefly what happened and what you found?’
Kenny began to relay the events of the evening including the embarrassing details of his illness. He could see that the uniformed police had by now approached the dead body and were erecting a cover over him to preserve the scene. He’d watched enough violent crime dramas on TV but never believed he would ever be caught up in one himself.
Another car arrived and Andy Walters turned around to see his colleague, Inspector Mike Harris who walked over and introduced himself to Kenny.
Andy briefly explained the circumstances to his colleague who nodded his agreement.
‘Mr Salveson,’ said Mike, ‘we will need you to come down to the station at some point to make a formal statement. As you were driving along the road can you remember if you saw any other cars driving particularly fast in either direction?’
‘No, nothing, the road was very quiet. I hardly saw any traffic. I saw a couple of lorries but that was about it, sorry.’
‘You’ve been very helpful sir. Are you OK?’ He’d seen Kenny grab hold of the car door handle as if to steady himself. Mike automatically reached out a hand towards the witness but realised that if he fainted they would have to let him slide down the side of the car to the floor. Kenny appeared to weigh at least eighteen stones, several stones too many for his average height.
A wave of nausea swept over Kenny again and before he could answer, he felt the vomit rising up his gullet once more. He rushed past the detective to the other side of the road and retched. ‘Jesus, fuck, not again,’ he said to himself. This was the most awful illness. His stomach muscles were starting to ache from the action of heaving his guts up. He squatted down for a few moments as he felt dizzy again.
‘Oh dear,’ said Mike, ‘he’s in a bad way.’
DS Walters wandered across the road. ‘Look, I think you need to get off home. We have your details. Do you think you can drive safely? I can always get someone to take you back?’
‘I should be OK now, it’s not far. I can’t have much more to bring up.’
‘You have quite a lot of blood on you from the victim. The forensic guys can give you some emergency clothing, we’d like to keep your trousers and jacket.’
‘OK, no problem.’
‘I’ll take you over to them and they will sort you out. Here’s my card, you can phone me and arrange a time to come to the station. We will also need to take your fingerprints for elimination purposes.’
‘Oh, well, OK.’
‘It’s just a formality, sir, no need to worry.’
‘Yes, OK, I understand.’
‘You’ve been most helpful.’
‘The guy looked seriously injured, I hope he’s going to be OK,’ said Kenny.
‘The medics will do their best,’ said Andy.
After removing his outer clothing for the forensic staff, Kenny went to retrieve his own car and was about to pull away when he felt a creeping sensation on his scalp. This caused him to shiver and he furiously rubbed his hand over his bald head, dislodging a moth which fluttered past him and out of the open window. He closed his eyes to regain his composure. How he wished he could be transported like a time-traveller and in an instant find himself at home. Instead, he would have to endure the smell of the vomit next to him until he could spot a rubbish bin and deposit the offending package. He could hardly believe so many awful things had happened that night and just wanted to get home, take a shower and go to bed.
Andy and Mike went over to the dead body. Forensic investigators had arrived along with a police pathologist who was in the process of certifying death. The two detectives donned some disposable gloves and plastic overshoes as they approached the tent. Photographs were being taken before the victim was turned over. Andy squatted down to get a better look, his superior remained standing as his portly frame made him less agile.
‘Evening, Alistair,’ said Andy.
‘Yes, evening to you. Lovely night isn’t it?’
‘Looks like this poor chap didn’t have a very pleasant stroll in the countryside?’
‘Indeed. I’ll just turn him over so we can see his face. He’s been stabbed, shot as well, by the looks of things but I’ll know more once I get him on the table. Ready?’
The victim was turned over.
‘Well, well, a familiar face,’ said Andy Walters, ‘although he looked better when I interviewed him in the past. I won’t be questioning him this time. ‘
‘Friend of yours then?’
‘Sean Bailey. Criminal record as long as your arm. Mainly minor offences. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Looks like someone had a sharp knife though.’
‘Right I’ll schedule the necessary investigations, and let you know,’ said Alistair. ‘See you again soon, no doubt.’
‘Night, Alistair,’ said Andy.
The two detectives went over to the uniformed officers.
‘Evening lads. Identity of the other man?’ said Mike.
‘Nothing, so far, sir.
‘I’ll get someone to check traffic cameras.’ Andy yawned and stretched as his lack of sleep began to take its toll.
‘OK, well hopefully our man will survive and we’ll see what he has to say for himself,’ added Mike. ‘Right, I’ll go and have a word with our white-suited friends and then I might be able to get some shut eye for a few hours.’ He turned towards the uniformed officers, ‘One of you get over to the hospital and make sure you stay with the victim, let me know if he reveals his identity.’
‘I’ll go, sir,’ said the constable who then jogged back to his car and sped away.
Their investigations were at an early stage but Mike felt this bore all the hallmarks of a drug deal gone wrong. Sean Bailey had been arrested and charged with drug offences before. He was a minor player but perhaps he’d recently become involved in something bigger than he could cope with. He would contact one of his colleagues tomorrow on the Drug Squad, they might need to pool their resources on this case.
Dawn was just breaking and the sky towards the east looked beautiful with faint pink streaks signalling a fine day ahead. However, Mike knew from experience that for him and his team the day ahead would be long and there would doubtless be many unpleasant revelations in the course of the investigation to distract them from appreciating the clement weather.
**
A black BMW 3 Series was being driven erratically towards Breckton. The driver was struggling to concentrate as the searing pain in his leg was making him feel faint. A bullet had also glanced his head and he could feel blood trickling down past his eyebrow. The evening had descended into chaos, someone had betrayed them and he was determined to find out the truth. It should have been an easy transaction, something he’d done many times before without difficulty. This time they had been ambushed and despite being armed they had been outnumbered and outgunned.
Having put some distance between himself and the crime scene, he stopped in a deserted lay-by to assess the damage to his leg. Switching on the interior light he gasped at the sight. His trousers were completely soaked with blood and it was leaking down onto the driver’s seat. Luckily his right leg had taken the bullet, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to operate the clutch.
‘Shit, shit,’ he cursed and slapped the steering wheel. The evening had ended in disaster and now he was entering a damage limitation phase. He had no idea how long his body could last out with the injuries he’d sustained so he couldn’t afford to be caught in possession of a gun. He took out his mobile and scrolled through his contacts. ‘Please, please answer,’ he moaned to himself. He closed his eyes for a few minutes then tried again, no response. ‘Fuck, fuck!’ he cried.
He dragged himself from the car, took out a plastic bag from the boot and wrapped the gun in it. Then he walked a few yards into the undergrowth and using the torch on his phone looked for some soft earth. Using his uninjured leg, his hands and elbows he managed to hollow out some ground and bury the gun. With luck, he could return and retrieve it. Firearms were expensive and he was loath to just discard it. His gloves went into the bin in the lay-by, tomorrow they should be on their way to landfill.
He climbed back into the car, already weary with that small exertion and realised that medical treatment, though unwelcome was an unavoidable consequence of tonight’s exploit. Despite the agonising pain which was causing him to breathe heavily his brain needed to come up with a plausible plan, quickly.
