Imposition (DI Gardener 5)

“It’s me again,” said Bob Anderson. “What if she was entertaining and he came home and caught them in the act? Would that account for the mess – a fight as opposed to a burglary?”

“Or maybe she wasn’t entertaining,” said Rawson. “Maybe he came home and they had a massive row about something – judging by how she was dressed, maybe he was feeling horny and she wasn’t. He gave her a slap, or two, and then turned the place over to make it look like that.”

“They’re all good theories and we wouldn’t be doing our job properly if we didn’t consider them. Once again that’s where we have to keep walking and talking. Patrick can determine his movements from the people at the club. We can have another go at the neighbours. I know the initial results yielded nothing but there are more houses in the area. Widen the net, speak to people in other streets, maybe one of them has seen something to shed some light. Robbie Carter claims he came home at one-thirty, but did he?”

The team continued jotting notes.

Gardener glanced at Mike Atherton. “Any news from the CHIS Handlers or the Intel Cell?”

“No, sir. I think it’s a bit too early yet but I will have another go this afternoon. Trouble is, it’s quite a big area, there are lots of places a burglar could unload his stuff.”

“Okay,” said Gardener. “Keep at it.”

He addressed them as a team again. “So far we have concentrated on the husband as the prime suspect. What if he’s telling the truth? Maybe he did come home to find the place turned over and his wife dead. If that’s the case, then we need to study the local burglars and here’s where Maurice comes in.”

Gardener stepped aside, allowing Maurice Cragg to take control.

“Thank you,” said Cragg. “I went through the files in the station earlier today of all known burglars. There are five and we have their prints.”

Maurice pinned five photos on the board and wrote a name under each one. “The first one here” – he pointed– “Jimmy Pinner, we can discount. He’s already doing a five-year stretch for armed robbery with violence.”

Maurice moved on to number two, a man with short grey spiky hair, glasses, and three teeth missing from his lopsided smile. “Alan Bond, lives in Pickering. Low-life scum, would sell his parents if they were still alive. He’s mixed up in drugs, prostitution... you name it. He’d steal anything that’s not glued down to pay for his addiction. But I’m not sure about the violence. He has no record for that – but there’s always a first time.

“Number three, Derek Rutter. He’s very distinguishable because he’s only got one eye. Blew it out with a shotgun one night when he was cleaning it. Nearly took the side of his head off, which is why he’s only got one eye and a head like a Brazil nut.”

Gardener’s team was in uproar.

“He lives out near Thirsk and he’s definitely a possibility. He has used violence before but he tends to go more for establishments – post offices and the like.”

Maurice Cragg moved on to number four. “Manny Walters. He’s made a career out of this lark. He’s not the sharpest tool in the box but he’s got his hands into everything – if there’s a con on the go somewhere in town, you know Manny’s got a piece of the action: everything from hooky Sky TV cards so you can view movies for free, right through to fake Viagra tablets.”

“Fake Viagra tablets?” said Rawson. “What’s that all about?”

Maurice Cragg was on the verge of laughter. “You’ll love it. We picked him up for a straight theft. Student officer didn’t search him properly and he dragged a packet of twenty tablets out of his arse and swallowed the lot.”

Shouts of disgust followed by peals of laughter.

“Fucking hell,” said Rawson. “He must have had a boner for weeks.”

“Oh, no,” said Cragg. “They weren’t Viagra, they were sedatives. Nearly killed himself. If brains were a disease, Manny Walters would be in the best of health.”

Not one single officer had kept a straight face, including Gardener and Reilly.

When it had calmed sufficiently, Cragg continued. “But he’s not violent. He lives right here in Bramfield and he’s definitely worth talking to.

“And number five, Chrissie Ward.” Maurice pointed to the only woman in the line-up. “She is a very nasty piece of work; a bit like Jimmy Pinner. She’ll stab you as look at you. She lives out near Leeds. Rawston, if any of you know it.”

“Do we,” said Gardener.

“Anyway, we’ve got prints and details of the lot so we should have no trouble following them up.”

As Cragg had finished, Gardener thanked him and took centre stage again. “I think we’ve just about covered everything. Does anyone have any questions?”

Steve Fenton, the CSI manager raised his hand.

“Not a question, sir, but something you might want to think about seeing as you are considering burglars.”

“Go on,” said Gardener.