Retribution

PROLOGUE

He was awakened by the strains of the first few bars of the William Tell Overture, which increased in volume each time they played. Still half-asleep, he stretched out to retrieve his mobile, which was lying on the floor, where he had dropped it the night before and mumbled what sounded like ‘ugh.’ Already almost four o’clock in the afternoon, after a heavy night out, he came to, quickly, when he heard the voice of the caller.

Yea, I’m awake now, he said, sitting up quickly You want to meet tonight, about eight? No problem, I’ll be there, he said, hanging up. By now he was wide awake and thinking about what tonight would bring. Need to get something before that, he thought.

Later that night, he walked with a bit of a swagger, as he did the rounds of the local pubs, dressed in his usual uniform of dark baggy jeans; worn black trainers and a light grey hoody, partially hiding his face, as it was pulled up to keep the constant drizzle off. He could remember the days, two or three years ago, when he was leader of his little group, all friends from school days. They had some great times then, always in trouble with the police, or someone’s parents. Now there was just him. One had a bust up with his mother and left the area, and the other decided to knuckle down and study hard—the wimp. Where will that get him? he muttered to himself. Nice nine to five job with no excitement. He did try to keep in touch with them by mobile, although he hadn’t heard from either of them for some months, until recently when he had had calls from them.

Fuck ’em all, he muttered, out loud, as a young couple passing him glanced and quickened their pace.

Still, he was his own boss, well-known in the Leeds East End area, and parts of the city centre. He answered to nobody and nobody answered to him any more. Tonight was going to be his big break. The phone call he had received earlier sounded very promising. He just needed a little something to give him a lift, ready for his assignation.

He checked out the Black Boy first. No-one he recognised. In fact, the place was almost empty as it was still early.

Seen anything of the lads, Tony? he shouted to the barman.

Not so far, try the Red Lion, replied the barman, simply wanting rid of him.

Always on the lookout for a fix, Tony thought, as the youth slouched out.

After trying several more pubs, to no avail, he was starting to think no-one was dealing tonight. Still hoping, he entered the Red Lion, as Tony had suggested, and approached three guys he recognised, who were propping up the bar.

Hi guys, how the fuck you all doing? he said to the group. They glanced, nodded, and carried on with their drinking and conversation. Unbeknown to him, although he thought he was a bit of a lad about town, he was looked on as a bit of a joke.

Looking to deal, any you fellers got anything? Onto a good thing tonight and getting high will make it a hell of a night to remember he said.

They all shook their heads, and one of the group said, Try the King’s Head in the city centre. I heard old Tom always has plenty at the right price.

Right, I’ll go grab a cab and head up there, he said, heading for the door.

As soon as he had gone, the others said, almost in unison, Thank Christ we got rid of that loser quickly. Now we can get back to our own dealing.

Outside, he flagged down a passing cab and headed for the city centre, feeling a lot more optimistic, as he was sure old Tom would be able to fix him up.

Should have gone there first, he muttered to himself.

Twenty minutes later he walked into the King’s Head, waved to the barman, and made a beeline for a table in the far darkened corner; old Tom’s usual table.

Just as the lads in the Red Lion had suggested, Tom had exactly what he was looking for. He thought the price, at twenty, was a bit high, but he paid it.

Now, you’ve got what you came for, said Tom, pocketing the money, You can piss off, this isn’t a doctor’s waiting room.

I’m on my way, he said, Don’t get excited.

He headed back towards the door, announcing to all and sundry, I’ve got a great deal lined up later. I just needed a little something to help me along. After tonight, I expect to be set up for life.

No-one quizzed him, as they had heard it all before. They smiled as he left whistling.

That was the last time any of them saw Shane Edwards alive.

CHAPTER 1

It was a cold, damp, miserable, Sunday evening in November. The time on the digital clock on the Hi-Fi indicated eleven o’clock, the numbers giving out a warm glow. The sound of Miles Davis’ muted trumpet filled the room. Detective Chief Inspector Jeff Grayson was enjoying one of his rare weekends off. Relaxing in his favourite leather recliner, feet up, watching a recording of yesterday’s Leeds United away match, with the sound turned off, he was indulging in his two favourite passions, jazz and Leeds United, as he poured himself a small malt whisky before retiring for the night.

Grayson lived alone, in a well-appointed two-bedroom flat in Beeston, outside Leeds city centre. The flat had dedicated parking and a caretaker who kept an eye out for any cars taking up residents’ slots. Being a third-floor flat, it also afforded some lovely views across the Yorkshire countryside, in addition to being close to a number of shops and a couple of takeaways. Divorced five years ago, he still kept in touch with his ex-wife and daughter, Lucy, both living in York. Lucy visited occasionally.

Been a good day all round, he thought, savouring the malt as it slipped effortlessly down his throat.

Then the phone rang. His perfect day was about to be ruined.

When Grayson arrived at Leeds East End Park, around eleven-thirty, Detective Constable Tom Wilkes and Dr. Josh Parker, the Medical Examiner, were already there. Wilkes, who had moved to Leeds a year ago from York CID, had rented a small house at Harehills, ideal for a bachelor, on the opposite side of York Road to the park. He had every intention of moving nearer the city centre just as soon as he found something suitable. Dr. Parker had been visiting friends in the area; otherwise he would still be on his way, home to Morley.

Wilkes was scowling as Grayson approached, obviously not happy to be called out on a wet Sunday night.

I missed the ending of a great performance of Tosca for this, and a rotten night to boot, moaned Wilkes, who was as keen on opera as Grayson was on jazz.

Grayson took no notice while stopping to take in the scene, gazing in all directions.

East End Park sits approximately south-east of York Road between East Park Parade and the main railway line to York, which runs along the south side of the park before turning north. Grayson had visited the park several times with Lucy, when she was a young teenager, but at night it was a foreboding place, particularly with a steady, but light, drizzle soaking everything. Despite the drizzle being light, it was accompanied by a strong northerly wind which increased the wind-chill factor, causing Grayson to pull the hood of his anorak tightly around his head. During the day it played host to picnickers, weather permitting, and had a diverse range of sporting facilities, including bowling, tennis, football and basketball. There was well-established woodland and a range of seating among the rose and shrub beds. It was among these shrub beds that the body was lying.

The few visitors coming to the park tomorrow will be disappointed when they see it cordoned off, although at this time of year they will be mainly dog-walkers and the occasional hardy souls who enjoyed the solitude winter brings to the park.

Having now got the bigger picture in his mind, he joined Wilkes where he could zero in on the crime scene.

You’re not the only one to be inconvenienced. I was watching the tail end of an exciting Leeds United match, but sometimes crime takes priority, snapped Grayson, angry at Wilkes’ attitude. Never forget that in this job you often have to work unsociable hours, probably a lot more than you did in York, he added. Anyway, now that we have both had a moan, what do we have? asked Grayson as he ducked under the tape which had cordoned off a large area of the park. A tent had already been erected which not only gave the victim some privacy, but kept the steady drizzle off to preserve the crime scene. A constable logged them both in and handed them the necessary protective clothing and footwear. The tent was only a couple of hundred yards from the nearest road, East Park Parade, though partially hidden by a group of bushes.

Grayson was one of three DCIs reporting to Superintendent Alan Timms, head of the Homicide and Major Enquiry Team (HMET), based in Leeds, who would be updated next day. He had known Timms for several years having served under him in the West Midlands as a DI where Timms was his DCI. On promotion, both officers moved to Leeds CID.

Wilkes, a young graduate policeman, with a degree in forensic psychology from Newcastle University, consulted his note book. Having served two years in uniform in Newcastle, followed by four years in York CID as a DC, he was meticulous about keeping detailed notes. At twenty-eight, he had already passed his Sergeant exams and was hoping for promotion soon.

Ever the efficient one, thought Grayson, as Wilkes flicked through his note book.

Grayson was not too impressed with the system of graduate policemen and had not come to terms with the idea that they were tomorrow’s Force and he was yesterday’s. However, having worked with Wilkes for a year, he was beginning to realize that he was quite perceptive where crime was concerned.

Wearing an anorak, like Wilkes, with the hood up, he waited patiently for Wilkes to give him an update, extracting a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. He only took two drags and quickly put it out, as if realizing what he had done. He was determined to stop one day, but still carried a few.

Young white male, found by a guy walking his dog, around eleven o’clock. He called 999 and the operator called us. I have his address if you want to talk to him, but he was pretty shook up, so I sent him home.

He’ll keep until tomorrow. Get a full statement in the morning, said Grayson, But check if he touched the body and whether his dog had any contact with it. If he did, we’ll need his prints to eliminate him. Do we know who the victim is?

Not yet. He wasn’t carrying any sort of identification, which isn’t unusual, if he didn’t drive or use a credit card. Finger prints may help, if he’s in the system. We should know sometime tomorrow, said Wilkes.

Anything else I should know? asked Grayson.

Doc Parker is in there now with the body, said Wilkes. No doubt he can tell you more.

As if on cue, Josh Parker emerged from the tent, fully covered in a white paper suit, plastic overshoes, surgical gloves and a face mask over his nose. Parker was a small man with piercing blue eyes and a limp as a result of a motoring accident a couple of years ago. White-haired at fifty, with a distinctly pointed nose, he had a vast wealth of experience and was much respected across the team, although he didn’t always see eye-to-eye with Grayson, when the DCI wanted everything done yesterday. However, his one redeeming characteristic was that he always appeared calm, even under the most gruesome circumstances, which tended to have a calming effect on those around him.

Evening Chief Inspector, said Doc Parker, trying to look as if was any normal night, while pulling off his gloves and face mask. Can’t you arrange these things for dry days, weekdays preferably? I expect you will want to see the body, though it’s not a pleasant sight, offered Parker.

Grayson donned the suit, overshoes and gloves he had been handed earlier and made his way slowly to the tent. This was the part he hated most, but it had to be done. As he drew nearer he could almost smell the stench of death, which, mixed with the odour of wet, rotting leaves, was nauseating, which Grayson had experienced too many times. Thankfully, this wasn’t mid-summer.

He stopped at the entrance to survey the scene before proceeding. As he entered the tent, he held his handkerchief to his nose, and was thankful he hadn’t had any supper.

Good God! he exclaimed. What the hell happened here, Josh? He looks almost decapitated. The victim was lying on his back, his head at right-angles to his prostrate body, surrounded by a large area of blood which was slowly seeping into the ground, mixing with the evening’s drizzle, dead leaves and soil. It was quite a murky mess. The deathly odour pervaded the whole area of the tent. One thing which struck Grayson, as he viewed the chaos in front of him, was the victim’s face. It had an expression which could only be described as a mixture of surprise, yet shock.

It looks as though he was garrotted, but I’ll know for sure when I get him on the table, said Parker, coming up behind him, having replaced his face mask, which was suspected of being perfumed, according to station gossip, giving the impression he could put up with any odours.

It was a common execution method in Spain well into the twentieth century. I haven’t seen many cases, but this one’s particularly gruesome. He or she probably used a very thin wire, such as a piano string. Cheese wire used to be a favourite until cheese started to come packaged.

The victim looked about twenty to twenty-five, dressed in dark baggy jeans, light-grey hooded top and black trainers. Best estimate of height, as he was lying at an awkward angle, was between five feet, nine inches to five feet, eleven inches.

When the Scenes of Crime Officers (SOCO) arrived, the area was cleared, and was now theirs. The log was passed to the Crime Scene Manager (CSM), as Wilkes and Grayson logged out. The body could only be removed, after all photographs, finger prints and all other relevant evidence had been collected. Hands, head and feet were bagged to protect any forensic evidence, which may be discovered during the post-mortem. Grayson, as the Senior Investigating Officer (SIO), could then authorise the removal of the body to the mortuary.

Not much more we can do here, said Grayson. Wilkes, start organizing house-to-house, though I doubt you will have much luck tonight. Ask a couple of uniforms to help since they are already here. Pick up at first light, and then meet me later in the morning for an update.

By now, it was leaving midnight and the drizzle had thankfully ceased. In the distance was the sound of a passing train, on its way north, via York. Grayson thought about Lucy, living up there with her mother. He realized he hadn’t seen her for quite a while.

Doc, can you organize the post-mortem for tomorrow morning? asked Grayson, hopefully. DC Wilkes will attend. I expect to be busy.

Josh Parker knew this would happen. It was well known that Grayson hated post-mortems, his one big weakness for a homicide detective. Rumour had it he almost fainted a couple of times.

I’ll do my best, but you know I don’t like to be rushed, replied Parker, knowing Grayson would ask, as he always did.

Grayson and Parker went back to when he joined Leeds CID seven years earlier. Both men understood each others’ methods of work, but he sometimes annoyed Parker by asking the almost impossible. However, Parker knew that Superintendent Timms would want as much information as possible later in the day, and would give it a high degree of priority. Cause of death, which he was pretty sure of, and identification were the main things. More detail would come later.

Oh, and Wilkes, said Grayson, more as an afterthought. Check which trains went past the far end of the park tonight? Never know our luck.

Wilkes started on house-to-house with two uniformed officers, who were happy with a bit of overtime as they were already on the scene, although they didn’t expect much joy as many residents would be in bed by now. After about thirty minutes they gave up and agreed to start at first light. Meanwhile, Grayson let the body be removed to the mortuary, in agreement with the CSM, before heading home. The search team would be there at first light and SOCO would be busy half the night. Two other uniformed officers drew short straws to keep the crime scene secure until morning.

CHAPTER 2

Next morning, Wilkes met up with three other Detective Constables assigned to the case, plus the search team, and several uniformed officers, who had been diverted to the case. They gathered at the edge of the park nearest York Road, close to the crime scene tent. In reality, the whole park was a crime scene until SOCO said different. During the night a Scenes of Crime mobile unit had been parked in the car park between the MENCAP centre and the tennis courts. This was manned by three members of the SOCO team who were responsible for logging all potential evidence, which would be transferred to forensics at regular intervals throughout the period that SOCO were on site. A secondary purpose of the placing of the mobile unit was to allow any member of the public to come forward with any information regarding the killing and to encourage this notices had been displayed at the entrance to the car park.

The team divided up the house visits, leaving the search team to start their meticulous finger-tip search, bagging and labelling anything of the slightest significance. The area between the park and York Road is made up of nineteenth-century terraced housing along with semi-detached and detached houses, many with well-maintained gardens, front and back. Crime in the area is unevenly distributed with the major crime spots being The Glendales, Templeviews and Charltons, predominantly back-to-back streets. The other officers were already familiar with the area, and focus would be in this part, although the rest of the area would not be neglected.

The officers were grateful that there had been only a little more rain overnight, which had now stopped and the wind had decreased significantly. In fact, as daylight broke, there were even a few bright spots in the sky indicating a nice day, for a change. So far, the month had been wet, but the latest forecast promised drier, crisp days for the rest of the month, which made Wilkes wonder what had been so important to bring this youth here on such a miserable night?

As Wilkes surveyed the park, much of which was cordoned off, and would remain so for most of the day, at least, he thought, this is a beautiful setting, being a lover of open countryside after his time in North Yorkshire, despoiled by a vicious murder.

Bringing himself back to the task in hand, they began the house-to-house.

We should also check if there were any patrol cars in the area last night, said Wilkes, hopefully.

Determined to cover all angles, Wilkes intended to show his boss that he was competent, despite Grayson’s opinion of the graduate entry system. A little shorter than Grayson, and not as broad, he was ambitious and knew he had the support of Superintendent Timms. He was also quite the opposite of Grayson, in that he preferred a glass of wine to Grayson’s love of real ale and malt whisky. He also preferred rugby to football, being of the opinion that rugby was much more a gentleman’s game, or at least, it was at university. With his mop of red hair and grey eyes he looked more like a college lecturer than a policeman. He was also aware that Grayson had a reputation for going out on a limb, ignoring proper procedure. Apparently, there had been an incident before he arrived in Leeds which almost sank the case. He was determined not to be dragged down in that way, particularly as he had hopes of promotion. However, he also had the highest respect for Grayson as a very competent detective and did concede that he had learned more in the past twelve months with Grayson than in the previous four years in York.

As he reflected back to his time in York, Wilkes felt it was enjoyable and he learned a lot, but there wasn’t a lot of serious crime. Tourists being mugged, car thefts and the only death he was closely involved in was that of a young visitor who took a dive off Clifford’s Tower. Accident or suicide was never positively established.

Then there was Rosemary Henson, a student, who worked part-time in a local café he frequented. She was in her final year, doing Media Studies. At around five feet, five inches, with a trim figure and blonde hair, he couldn’t believe his luck when she accepted an invitation for a night out. Many students and girls in general, tended to avoid relationships with policemen, if only because of the hours they worked. However, it was her clear, blue eyes which first attracted him. They always seemed to be smiling. They eventually became very close, but she graduated and went back to Carlisle, having been offered a position with Border Television, shortly before he left for