Call to Arms Page 6

  ‘So, it seems that his family noticed that he had something else on his mind when he returned from Afghanistan, but he didn’t speak to anybody about what was bothering him. Michael and Bridget Ingram confirmed that the night of his death Jamie received a phone call, which he answered in private. He never told them who the caller was, or what that conversation was about. Natalie Ingram confirms that after she and her brother had argued three days before that, they didn’t speak again.’

  ‘Did they happen to mention whether he seemed scared?’ said Carys.

  ‘Natalie didn’t, but her parents certainly noticed the change in Jamie after that call,’ said Barnes. ‘It seems he refused to tell them what it was about, and they didn’t press the matter.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Kay. ‘What did the rest of you manage to get done today? Any progress?’

  Gavin held up a printout. ‘Debbie and I have been going through the list of Jamie’s friends and acquaintances from the original investigation, and we’ve updated that with phone numbers and new addresses where people have moved.’

  ‘I’ve left a message with the barracks where Jamie was based,’ said Carys. ‘It took a bit of work, but I finally managed to find out where his commanding officer is working these days, and I’ve left a message for him to call me as a matter of urgency. As soon as he does, I’ll arrange a meeting for us to go and speak with him.’

  ‘Great work,’ said Kay.

  ‘I also got in touch with the personnel department here, and they’ve given me the contact details for the forensic collision investigator who attended the scene of Jamie’s accident. I’ve forwarded the email to you.’

  ‘Fantastic, thanks. Okay, these are our next steps. Gavin and Carys – can you go through that list of Jamie’s friends and acquaintances, note any questions to get us started, and divide them up between us so we can start re-interviewing them as soon as possible? We’ll work in pairs for the interviews, so that means we’re going to have to conduct them in between everything else that’s on our desks out there. Put the ones who previously gave statements at the top, and everyone else after that. Debbie – once that’s done, can you start making phone calls to arrange times for us to meet with those people?’

  She turned her attention to Barnes, but he put up his hand.

  ‘Sorry, Kay – I’ve got to be at the magistrates’ court tomorrow, and possibly the next day. It’s the hearing for a case we closed back in November.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Seems like the backlog hasn’t improved since I was last here.’

  ‘Got that right.’

  Kay stifled another yawn. ‘All right. We’ll skip the briefing tomorrow – you’ve all got plenty to do. We’ll meet again the day after tomorrow and see what progress we’ve made then.’

  ‘What about you, Kay?’

  She dropped the pen onto the metal shelf under the whiteboard and turned to Barnes.

  ‘I’m going to try to arrange to meet with the original forensic collision investigator from Traffic tomorrow morning to find out what he thought about Jamie’s accident.’

  * * *

  The next day, Kay stood in a potholed lay-by at the side of the A20, her umbrella doing little to ward off the effects of a late winter downpour that was driving horizontal rain at her face.

  She extended her hand to the man who jogged towards her after parking his car, the hood of his jacket obscuring his face until he drew close.

  ‘Jeff Bishop,’ he said, before shoving his hands back into his jacket pockets.

  ‘Thanks for meeting me. I half expected you to cancel.’

  He shrugged. ‘I used to be out in all weathers. To be honest, I’d rather be here – the wife has me retiling the bathroom at the moment.’

  Kay smiled. ‘I appreciate it.’

  ‘No problem. Where do you want to start?’

  ‘I’ve read through your original report a few times, but it would be useful if you could walk me through the scene of the accident when you first attended. As I said on the phone last night, I’ve been tasked with reviewing the case in light of new information, and it’s a lot easier for me to do so if I can visualise what everything looked like that night rather than trying to work it out from a report.’

  ‘Have you been talking to Sharp?’

  Kay took a step back in surprise, and he rolled his eyes.

  ‘You have, haven’t you? You know he’s been running with the theory of foul play ever since that accident? It got to the point where I used to try and avoid him at the Christmas parties.’

  She opened her mouth to protest, and then noticed the corner of his eyes crinkle with amusement.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Come on. We need to start over there, down by the junction to Ulcombe.’

  Kay locked her car and trudged after him. She scowled as a dark blue panel van shot past them, sending the contents of a large puddle over her shoes and the hem of her trousers.

  Bishop set a fast pace, retreating to the grass verge whenever a vehicle approached, and then taking off once more when it was safe to do so.

  The Ulcombe turn-off was less than a quarter of mile away, and they paused at the road sign next to the T-junction.

  ‘This is where he would have started his approach into the bend,’ said Bishop. ‘As you can see, the main road begins to rise from here, so he would have started to accelerate. The weather that night was similar to this, so visibility would have been reduced. Have you ever been on a motorbike?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay, well I can tell you – when it’s pissing down with rain like it is today, it’s not a lot of fun. They’ve made improvements to visors on helmets, but it’s not just the rainwater dashing against that, you’ve got to imagine the noise of a heavy downpour on your head. I don’t care what people say, it doesn’t matter how good a motorcyclist you are – conditions like this impede your ability to react, because your senses are being battered.’

  ‘Was there any indication that he was speeding?’

  ‘It’s likely, given the number of infringements recorded on his licence. As you’ll know from the file, there were no witnesses, so that’s conjecture on my part.’

  ‘So, he’s lined himself up to take the corner. What happens next?’

  Bishop looked to his right and then left, before beckoning Kay across the road. ‘Come on, we’ll walk the route.’

  Kay was grateful that a proper path had been constructed on the opposite side of the road, making it easier to keep up with Bishop. She paused to scrape the worst of the mud off her boots, and then caught up with him as he stopped at the crest of the hill.

  ‘This is where it all went wrong. You’ve heard about the point of no return with regard to aircraft?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘It’s when an aircraft is taking off. The pilot has got a split second before the front wheels leave the ground to abort the take-off. Once the nose of the plane lifts into the air, there’s no turning back. It’s like that when you steer a motorbike around a bend. After you’ve committed to the manoeuvre, you can’t simply steer the other way if something goes wrong. Any deviation to your riding line, and the machine is going to flip out from underneath you. Watch some motorbike racing on the television sometime – you’ll see what I mean.’

  He pointed to the road surface.

  ‘And, before you ask, we assessed the road conditions that night. There was no oil on the asphalt at the point at which he lost control, and there were no potholes that could have thrown him off course. The only oil traces were from where his bike hit the ground and slid across to the other side.’

  ‘So, given that Jamie had a reputation for being such a good motorcyclist, even if he did like to speed, what do you think went wrong?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s like I said in my report. He knew this road really well – perhaps too well. He was accelerating, the weather was atrocious, and he simply misjudged the corner.’

&n
bsp; ‘What if he had to swerve at the last minute to avoid hitting something?’

  ‘No. It’s like I stated in my report. If a rabbit ran out in front of him, we would have found the body. If he collided with a deer, there would have been significant damage to the motorbike over and above that caused by the impact of it hitting the road. And again, if that happened then it’s likely we would have found the body of the deer close by. We didn’t find anything.’

  Kay shook her head. ‘That’s not what I meant. What if a car pulled out in front of him and he tried to swerve to avoid it?’

  Bishop scratched his chin and cast his eyes along the stretch of road. ‘There were no skid marks or debris from any other vehicles in the vicinity. We checked.’

  ‘What if the driver had no intention of braking?’

  His head snapped around, his eyes meeting hers. ‘A hit-and-run, you mean?’

  ‘Maybe, or perhaps he was targeted deliberately.’

  Bishop raised his eyes to the grey sky, and then he pointed at their cars further up the road.

  ‘There’s a decent pub on the lane up to Ulcombe. Let’s go there and get out of this weather. You can buy me a pint and explain yourself.’

  Fourteen

  Bishop took a swig from his pint, then set the glass down on the table between them, smacking his lips.

  When Kay had followed his vehicle into the car park outside, she had peered through the windscreen at the sweeping view across a sodden field, and tried to imagine what the place would look like in summer.

  As the rainfall intensified, she gave up, launched herself from the car and hurried after Bishop.

  Inside, the pub provided a respite from the elements, and they had timed their visit to perfection – the premises had opened only half an hour before, ready to welcome anyone brave enough to venture out for lunch.

  Horse brasses adorned the inglenook fireplace, while the walls of the pub held framed photographs of the local area through the ages. Dried hops hugged the supporting beams, and the faint sound of a radio station filtered through from the kitchen.

  Bishop had waved her over to the two sofas next to the fireplace, and ordered their drinks before sinking onto the sofa opposite her. He ran a hand through his grey hair, which was wet despite the waterproofs he’d worn.

  Kay sipped at her lemonade and cast her eyes around the pub while she savoured the warmth from the open fire. She realised she probably looked like a drowned rat herself, and slid her feet across the carpet to try and dry out her boots.

  She turned at the sound of a short, sharp bark, then leaned over and held out her hand to a Jack Russell terrier who hurried over from behind the bar. She ruffled its ears before turning her attention back to Bishop.

  ‘I’d forgotten about this place – I don’t think I’ve been here in years.’

  ‘They do a great Sunday lunch. It’s still owned by the same family that bought the place back in the 1950s, too. Perfect on a day like this.’

  He adjusted his waterproof coat on the arm of the sofa and then, once satisfied it wasn’t going to slide onto the floor, picked up his glass.

  ‘All right. Explain to me where the hell you got the idea that Jamie was the victim of a hit and run.’

  She sighed, then leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. She glanced over to the bar, but there was no-one within earshot.

  ‘It’s been going around in my mind for about a day, ever since I spoke with his parents and sister and read through the original file. I mean, both his parents and Sharp have been telling me what a great motorcyclist he was and how well he knew the roads around here. So, how come he got killed?’

  ‘Bad luck.’

  ‘Oh, come on! Surely you don’t believe that?’

  He put his glass on the table, half full. ‘I do, actually. You can be the best driver – or rider – in the world, and still come unstuck. Trust me, I’ve seen so many cases where vehicles have ended up in impossible positions, and you stand there, staring at it, trying to work out how the hell it happened. I’ve managed investigations where drivers have lost control and ended upside down in trees at the side of the road, for goodness’ sakes. Luck plays a huge role in our lives every day.’

  Kay chewed her lip. ‘Was there any indication that Jamie’s motorbike had been tampered with?’

  ‘None whatsoever. We tore that thing apart in the workshop. We had to – we had Sharp’s army police nagging us, as well as Harrison’s team. At the end of the day though, it was rider error.’

  She turned her glass in the condensation it had created on the surface of the table, before lifting her gaze as Bishop slid across a cardboard coaster with a brewery logo emblazoned across it.

  ‘I used to work behind a bar at university. You wouldn’t believe what a pain that is, clearing up the mess people make.’

  He winked, and she grinned in return.

  ‘How did you become a forensic crash investigator?’

  ‘I fell into it, really. I studied engineering at university – that’s when I was working in bars to earn a bit of money on the side – and I enjoyed the physics side of the engineering degree as well. I don’t like the cold, so when I graduated I didn’t fancy doing what most of my contemporaries were doing – heading up to Aberdeen to work on some of the big gas projects – and I saw an advertisement for a junior investigator at a private consulting firm in Hertfordshire. I always liked messing about with my own cars, and my father was a mechanic, so it was a logical step, I suppose. What about you? Why did you join the police?’

  She shrugged. ‘I like problem solving, and I like the challenges the role brings.’

  ‘I saw the story in the newspaper about you before Christmas,’ he said. ‘You nearly died.’

  She shivered. ‘Nearly. Not an experience I want to repeat any time soon, I can assure you.’

  ‘Well, I have to admit that if it was anyone else who asked me to do this in my free time, the answer would’ve been no.’ He gestured towards her with his glass. ‘You, however, have a reputation for tenacity, and that’s a tough quality to hold on to in this day and age.’

  She watched as he took a sip. ‘Thank you.’

  He suppressed a belch, and placed the empty glass at the end of the table. ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Going back to Jamie. You’re convinced another vehicle didn’t strike him, but what if someone deliberately made him swerve?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘If someone was approaching from the opposite direction – from the Leeds roundabout – and swerved into the path of Jamie’s motorbike, he’d have nowhere to go.’

  ‘How would they know it was him? It was dark, remember?’

  ‘What if they were expecting him?’

  ‘Even if they did, he’d have seen the car approaching – the headlights would’ve reflected off the trees as they drew closer.’

  ‘What if they didn’t have their headlights switched on?’

  Bishop gave a low whistle through his teeth. ‘You are one devious thinker, Hunter.’

  Kay drained her lemonade before setting her glass on the table. ‘Is it possible that’s what could’ve happened?’

  ‘Maybe. Yes, it’s possible.’

  ‘So, now we have a scenario where Jamie Ingram may have been killed intentionally, based on the fact you’re saying it’s possible he may have swerved to avoid an oncoming vehicle. The driver of which didn’t stop at the time, or come forward during the investigation.’

  ‘Hey, I only said maybe.’

  ‘I know.’ She glanced over her shoulder and turned her attention to the road beyond the front door of the pub at the sound of an engine as a motorbike tore past, and then turned back to Bishop.

  ‘Makes you wonder though, doesn’t it?’

  Fifteen

  The following Monday, Kay eased herself from the passenger seat of the car, and began to weave her way between the other vehicles parked in front of the administrative block of Worthy Down Barracks, Carys at her heels
.

  She rolled her neck, easing out the kinks that had formed during the early morning journey from Kent to the depths of Hampshire.

  Carys had elected to drive, collecting Kay from her house while it was still dark.

  ‘You drive on the way back,’ she’d said. ‘I can use the time to type up my notes on my laptop.’

  She had phoned Kay the night before, having tracked down Jamie Ingram’s old commanding officer over the weekend.

  After a promotion and two further deployments, the man had undertaken a teaching position at the Defence College of Logistics, Policing and Administration, and Carys had arranged to interview him between classes.

  Kay pushed through the glass door to the building, holding it open for Carys before they made their way to a reception desk.

  A young man in fatigues finished a phone call as they approached.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘DI Hunter and DC Miles. We’re here to see Colonel Stephen Carterton. He’s expecting us.’

  ‘Have a seat over there. I’ll let him know you’re here.’

  As Carys reached into her bag and set her mobile phone to silent mode before pulling out her notebook and a pen, Kay gazed around the room.

  An original painting of a desert scene hung on the wall behind the reception desk, depicting a tank in desert colours bursting over a dune at speed, the artist capturing the dust and heat perfectly. To the right of her, a large wooden frame held a brass plaque that listed all the commanding officers of the various regiments now based at the barracks.

  The decor appeared to have been polished to within an inch of its life, and she reckoned the soldier behind the desk would have a fit if he saw the state of the incident room back at Maidstone.

  If she worked here, she’d be afraid to touch anything for fear of smearing or breaking it.

  Five minutes later, and precisely at the time that had been set for their meeting, a tall man in matching fatigues to those of the soldier at the desk appeared at the end of the corridor next to the reception area.