The Road to Eden is Overgrown by Dan Wheatcroft - HTML preview

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CHAPTER 48

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Degsy paid for the teas, handed Thurstan his, and bade the vendor farewell. “And tell your kid I’ll see him at the match on Saturday, Brian.”

“Right yer ar, Degs,” Brian replied with a smile.

Thurstan pointed to the seating area encircling the nearest tree. They wandered slowly over to it, leaving the red coloured hot dog and burger stand behind them.

Sipping their tea in silence it was a while before Thurstan spoke. “Ok, not what we might have hoped for, but interesting nonetheless. Helps build up the picture.” He threw Degsy a weak smile, intended as encouragement.

Degsy missed it and sat staring into the flimsy plastic cup. Eventually, he declared: “It’s an absolute waste of time, Boss, having cameras in your reception area if you’re going to have them set at such a crazy angle.  I mean, it is useful if we only arrested people after inspecting the tops of their heads, know what I mean?”

Thurstan chuckled and took another sip of tea. “I know. But look on the bright side, Derek. It’s not as if we have less than we had before. To be honest, we are a little bit richer for it. Did you catch the cleaner’s comment about how clean the room was when he left and how the bed sheets were untouched?” He glanced at Degsy. “Like he hadn’t slept in it, she said. At least we know there’s not much point in getting overexcited about finding a room he’s just vacated. DNA and fingerprints? I think we’ve more chance of winning the lottery.”

Degsy looked up from his tea. “Yeah, I caught that. You think he slept somewhere else or just slept on the top cover?”

Thurstan sipped his tea again. “I think he’s using a sleeping bag,” he said quietly. “It makes sense to me. Don’t get me wrong, Derek. I’m not saying we don’t forensically examine a room he’s left. If we can get to it before the cleaners have moved in then it would be silly not to really. But I’m just saying, let’s not wet ourselves with excitement. We’ve got no DNA from the scenes. What we need it for, why it would be nice to have it, is because, at some stage in the future, he’s going to fuck up. They always do. It’s just a case of how long. Hopefully, we won’t be retired by then.” He laughed.

Degsy smiled back at him. “I might not, but ...” he said with a shrug then, as he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. “Scuse me, Boss.”

He stood up and threw his cup in the nearby bin as he spoke. “DS Drayton... Yeah?... We’ll be back shortly then. Ask Chalkie to hang on. Nah, we don’t need a lift. We’re just at Holy Corner.” He hung up. “Chalkie’s waiting for us to get back, Boss, so he can give you an update on the Masterson job before he goes home. Says it’s important.”

Thurstan poured the remainder of his tea over the base of the tree. Degsy took the cup from him and threw it in the bin. Less than 10 minutes later they walked into MIT and went their separate ways. Thurstan walked over to Chalkie’s office where he found him standing with his coat on, holding a sumptuous bouquet.

“Chalkie! You shouldn’t have. They’re wonderful!” Thurstan said waving his splayed fingers in front of his eyes.

“Fuck off, Thurstan!” Chalkie replied, grinning. “They’re for the wife. It’s our anniversary.”

“So which one is this then? Stone, plastic, granite or polystyrene?” Thurstan retorted.

Chalkie looked back at him in mock disgust. “You haven’t got a clue, have you?”

“No,” Thurstan replied, “And, taking into account your attempt at deflection, neither have you.” He smiled a winner’s smile. “So, Masterson?” 

Chalkie sat on the edge of his desk. “We’ve charged them both and they’ll be appearing in custody tomorrow morning. They’ve maintained the ‘no comment’ stance but what with the fibres, DNA, fingerprints and the motorway CCTV, I think we’re sound and so do the CPS.”

“Good news, Chalkie, and thanks for hanging on to tell me yourself. I appreciate it. And at least we have some evidence now to connect Tony MacMahon to the job.”

Chalkie smiled ruefully. “Yeah, his prints found on some of the recovered money have done that alright.” He stood up. “I suspect it was probably ‘half now and the rest later’. What price ‘love’, hey?”

“Forty thousand, apparently,” Thurstan replied frankly. “Now, you’d better get a move on. Going anywhere nice tonight?”

“Well, I’m meeting her at the Radisson,” Chalkie said as he readjusted his flowers. “She thinks we’re just having a drink, but my sister, who’s going to keep the kids occupied, helped me pack some stuff for her which I stuck in the room earlier. So it’s a River View suite then a special meal at the Panoramic restaurant next door and tomorrow, well,  I thought the old Ferry across the Mersey and some retail therapy for her.” He grinned a big happy grin which clearly said he was very pleased with himself.

Thurstan patted him on the arm. “Chalkie, you are, indeed, a very clever and cunning man.”

They walked into the main office where Thurstan added, with a look of gravity:  “Seriously though. Don’t forget to buy some condoms on the way out. A DI’s pay will only support four kids.” He grinned.

Chalkie turned, smiled condescendingly, and tapped his top pocket.

Thurstan laughed and patted him on the back. “Enjoy your anniversary,” he said then peeled off and strode over towards the Sergeants' side of the office.

Lizzie glanced up from her desk and smiled as he approached. Thurstan couldn’t help but smile back. He wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but it felt as if something was. The little man in his head told him to forget it.

“Derek, I need a quick update on anything the hotels team have come up with and I’ve just remembered we were going to make some enquiries in Hungary, do you remember?” he said.

Degsy looked up from his desk and held up his forefinger as he spoke into the phone:  “Ok, love, I’ll sort it out when I get home. Got to go now, the Boss wants me. Yeah, and I love you too.” He started to laugh. “No, I’m not doing that! All I can say is ditto.” He put the phone down. “Sorry, Boss. Yeah, can you give me five minutes and I’ll see you in your office?”

“Not a problem. I need to go somewhere first. Five minutes then.” The DCI turned and wandered off towards the corridor. Lizzie, who was now on the phone, looked up and watched him leave.

Ten minutes later, he and Degsy were ensconced in his office. “Sorry about that, Boss, I needed to speak to Soapy and he’d gone walkabout.” The DS sat down, paused for a few seconds, then said: “Right, as we know, he came in on the seventeenth of February so I had Soapy start from that date working towards your list and Gandalph kept working back the other way. They found some names that are highly probable to be him simply because they fit the profile of being odd. There’s a Christian Phillip Bacon, Chris P Bacon.” He caught the grimace on Thurstan’s face. “I know, they’re all like that,” he offered apologetically before continuing: “There’s a Richard Stroker, Jack Goff and Robin Graves. But there’s gaps where he must have been using conventional names. Now, Gandalph pointed out that none of these names, so far, actually consist of his own forenames so we discounted, for the time being, any names that did. That narrowed things down a bit but there are still days missing in his trail of hotels. We identified several more rooms he’d used but, as you mentioned, especially after this length of time, forensics is pointless. We did, however, get a confirmation of a sleeping bag. Soapy didn’t realise the significance until I happened to mention it. He said one of the chambermaids saw it. She and several others also commented on how clean he left his rooms. Some remembered him by his description, having spoken to him when he declined to have the room serviced and one of them commented she thought he had OCD.”

Thurstan shot him a quizzical glance.

“She saw him doing some repetitive stuff. Closing his door several times, returning to touch the door handle. She said she recognised the behaviour because her brother’s got it, does the same sort of thing.”

“Hmm...” Thurstan raised his eyebrows. “OCD. Intriguing. Not quite sure where it gets us but interesting all the same. What about the Hungary enquiry?”

Degsy was looking at his notes. “Yeah. That was the transport links thing. The ‘man in the wall’. It’s two stops away on the underground from ...” he hesitated briefly.  “Looks like you pronounce it Delly Pallyowdvar. Anyway, it’s the Budapest train station for getting to the west of Hungary. There’s another two big stations but they’re on the opposite side of the river. One of them basically serves the east and south of the country and the other one is the main international and intercity terminal.”

The DCI looked thoughtful. “I don’t think he would have made that withdrawal if he lived in the City or even nearby. So, probability is that he’s living in the west of the country.” He fell silent a moment. “Or he wants us to believe he lives in the west of the country. It’s something, yet it’s nothing.” It was his turn now to look apologetic. “Ok, let everyone know I’m very grateful and they’ve done a great job, but let’s just dot the i’s and cross the t’s if we can.”

“Will do, Boss.” Degsy sensed the briefing was at an end. He rose from his seat then added: “Do you think he’ll be back?”

Thurstan rubbed his chin. “Do you know what? I’ve got absolutely nothing more than a gut feeling but, yes. I think he will come back. I don’t think it’s finished yet.” He yawned then stood up. “Right, I’m going to take some ‘time due’, Derek, and head home. I noticed the other day you’ve got some time owing to you so if you want to do the same, seeing as you obviously have something that needs sorting ... I’ve no objections. Just make sure all your lot are accounted for and let Lizzie know what you’re doing.”

Degsy nodded. “If you don’t mind, it would be handy, Boss,” he said, then made for the door.

Thurstan called after him, “Oh, and Derek!” Degsy halted and looked back. “You’re doing a great job too. Thanks very much. I mean it.”