UG3 Diminishing Returns   Chapter 07     The Fan Spins

 

It was the Thursday 5th of February before they arrived back in Redruth, the girls having caught the Night Riviera sleeper service after a final debrief at Abigail Adams House.

The train was a couple of minutes adrift of the scheduled arrival but they were back indoors just after seven thirty that morning. Heather decided to get straight into her work, having lost four days to what, effectively, could be termed a fishing expedition. Her first stop however was the shower and fresh clothes.

When she reached their bedroom to dress there was a steaming cup of tea and hot toast waiting for her, so she finished that before making herself decent. There was a grocery delivery scheduled for that lunchtime and very little in the fridge, they had purchased a chilled two pint carton of fresh milk and a bag of ice in London, double wrapped in carrier bags for insulation. That had worked and their milk was still chilled, so at least tea and coffee was possible until the van arrived with fresh produce.

Heather made a hot drink and took it upstairs. She entered the office with trepidation, she already knew there was a veritable ton of emails awaiting her attention, but it had been six days since she’d been able to do any real work.

Downstairs she heard the front door close, when she opened the safe for the secure phone’s encryption key, she noted that Sophie’s Glock 19 was missing, although her own Glock 26 was present.

Sophie had concluded her reports in London so now returned to her favourite pastime, visiting places and making enquiries. This was much more rewarding than sitting in front of a screen and usually more productive, at least that’s how DS Sophie Grieve saw things. Her enquiries sometimes took her to less salubrious locations, hence she was prepared to defend and protect herself.

The DS didn’t always let her partner know where she was going, and any stated timings had to be taken with a pinch of salt, especially where dinner was concerned. Heather was used to Sophie’s vagueness but she was sometimes infuriated by her partner’s irresponsible and totally unavoidable timings.

Most days, planning a candlelit dinner was pointless, Sophie could not guarantee what time she’d be home. Heather therefore arranged for dinners that were easy to keep warm, reheat, or just pull from the fridge. It meant there was a restricted list of meals but the alternative was to visit a take-away late evening with no promises that anywhere was still open.

Heather finished logging in and found a stream of responses to the feelers she’d put out a week earlier.

The photo she was looking at was a tenanted three storey building in Corporation St, Swindon. From the front it could well have been apartments but a faded sign on the building simply said “To Let”. The quoted telephone number on the sign went to an answering machine but when an enquiry had been made, no reply was forthcoming.

She accessed the building plans and saw immediately it was a phased fit out internally and, so far, only phase one had been completed. At present the only apartments were on the middle floor. The building documents lodged with the local council planning department stated that the property would be used September to June for students, and that in July and August building work would add additional apartments., allowing it to open in time for the new academic year. That had been in 2005 and Heather believed the apartments had never been let to students.

Apart from the street entrance, which she suspected had never been used, there was a service entrance at the rear in a sheltered courtyard. She needed sight of that and sent a request for imagery.

She summarised the building.

28 Corporation St is on the books as a Fourani student apartments asset but has not passed to a management company. Does not appear to have had any tenants and no guarantee that the three apartments exist within the building shell. Possible uses include arms storage, drugs storage/production or all of these. Building is very close to centre and mainline station. Need current photographs of all sides including overheads.

Another site was just a building site, it had been razed to the ground and nothing of the earlier premises remained. Heather noted this in her files and moved on to the next message.

Kent Police had now responded to the requests for details of Bernice Hollande’s travels. She was pleased that there were three images in each set: a close photo of the number plate, from which the number had been extracted, a frontal image of the plate and the driver/passenger, and a third image taken from the side as the vehicle was stopped at a barrier. This was the one that Heather had hoped existed as she now had a face for Ms Hollande, as the woman handed over her documents.

She’s also received a passport image of Dimiitris Dēmētríou and compared the pair, side by side. There was more than a passing resemblance and a forensic examination of the photographs should prove they were the same. To Heather it was clear the Ms Hollande identity was more than a weekend excursion for Mr Dēmētríou.

Two more crossings of the Channel were recorded for 2014 one out in December and a return a week later. The last entry was a departure a week ago but no corresponding return.

She looked at the captured images and, although they were taken at night, it looked as if Ms Hollande had undertaken some cosmetic surgery. The alternative was that she was better with cosmetics, but Heather wasn’t convinced of her second theory. Regardless, she wondered whether anyone else would have made the connection?

She updated that enquiry with a request to check for any NHS or National Insurance records in Hollande’s or Dēmētríou’s names.

There were a number of bank transactions that had been flagged for Heather but none seemed to relate to any shipping, transportation or anything other than a domestic existence and occasional public travel.

It seemed as if the drugs importation had ground to a halt. It was the end of the first week of February and, apart from the suspect Topsham arrival, the last known import had been in December, she wondered if the gang had been spooked and were now laying low? It was too early to know for sure but she offered that thought into the system and logged off.

She had a fresh coffee in her hand when the doorbell sounded, out of the window she could see a familiar blue van. A few minutes later the grocery delivery was on the floor just inside the door.

As the van drove onto its next customer she picked up the frozen items where they’d been dropped and methodically worked through the rest until it was all stowed. Her coffee was now cool so she drank a mouthful but tipped the rest away.

Lunch would normally have followed, but the original choice for dinner wasn’t available in the store that morning so hadn’t been delivered. Some rethinking meant the slow cooker was employed. Heather yawned, she hadn’t had much sleep on the train and was beginning to feel her lack of fitness, perhaps the Doc had been right?

Once the lid was on the pot, dinner was only four hours away, or maybe five? It didn’t matter, it would cook for as long as needed.

She gave up trying to do anything more complicated and took a tin of tomato and red pepper soup out of the cupboard. Whilst that heated she cut a couple of slices of fresh crusty bread. Simple but effective food.

She cleaned up the kitchen then headed upstairs, falling asleep on the bed within minutes.

She woke to the sound of a ringing phone but was disorientated for a while before she realised it was her mobile. It took a few more seconds to remember she’d left it on charge in the office.

The phone had rung off when she reached it but the house phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Don’t you answer your mobile?”

“Sorry Sophie, I fell asleep and I’m not fully awake. What time is it?”

“It’s four. I’m in Exeter with a Met prisoner, Emily asked me to handle this end.”

“So will you be home for dinner?”

“Looks like I’m going to Paddington Green tonight with this one.”

“Oh, it has to be you?”

“Sorry, but I was the only asset who could handle this.”

Heather had heard that reasoning before; Sophie was, in theory, a counter terrorism officer, and had to be available if such a case turned up. Given that Paddington Green was the highest security police station in London , Heather could guess most of the rest, but needed to know if it linked into anything she was doing.

“Is it a case I’m familiar with?”

“No, not this time. I’ll call you later.”

The accountant walked down to the kitchen, taking her charged mobile with her, and checked the pot with her dinner, turning the power down to the minimum.

Heather’s appetite was escaping her and it wasn’t long before she turned the slow cooker off completely. The lid hadn’t been touched for several hours so would be effectively sealed.

She made a sandwich and ate it at the kitchen table, feeling isolated. A bath improved her mood, a little, but she was back in bed by seven and turned the ringer off on her mobile.

Heather woke just before seven and showered before grabbing her first coffee of the day. While her toast burned she quickly filled the washing machine and put that on. Within half an hour she was in the office to pick up any emails.

When she retrieved her phone she found a few texts from Sophie, the latest saying she was on the 0637 from Paddington. Heather estimated the train was probably well past Reading, assuming it was on time, but she stopped short of tracking it.

She caught up with her personal and business emails, including a few offers of private work. The work looked like it would take a week or more and she didn’t know if she could spare that time so declined both offers, although her initial research had already cost her an hour.

A few emails had made it past the spam filter, but Heather didn’t need investment advice, or sunglasses, or a good web developer. One stood out as interesting, she ran it through the anti-virus before printing the missive. The originating email address told her nothing and could have been sent from anywhere on the planet. She put it to one side whilst she checked her official emails.

There was a group email from Jenny confirming that Suzie Small was joining their team in a few weeks as well as weekend duty officer allocations. Heather was pleased that her status meant she didn’t have to provide any out of hours coverage for the team, something that a few found odd.

So far as her searches were going, none of the international requests had been returned so she decided not to pursue anything more until Monday.

Heather spent the next hour, with fresh hot beverage, sorting through her paperwork. As she worked she’d picked up the email from “Si” and put it back down in a different place. After doing this three times she decided to spend a little time on it.

A quick google search identified a Western Morning News article from a few weeks earlier and that confirmed the name of the reclusive owner was a John Tinker, so probably a relative of Julian.

Out of curiosity alone she called the number from the email but the call went straight to voicemail, she left her name and business number before dropping the annotated email in her ‘outstanding’ tray for future reference.

She took a break to empty the washing machine and hang the damp laundry outside. There was a good breeze and the sky was blue even if it was a little chilly, so she assumed the towels would dry quickly.

The meal from the previous day was still in the slow-cooker so she turned it back on to warm it through. She was just making her way back up to the office when she heard a noise outside, followed by Sophie walking indoors.

“I found the postman along the road and persuaded him to give me the letters, apparently he didn’t get an answer?”

“Oh, I was out the back and had the kitchen door closed.”

“Is the kettle hot?”

“Err, it’s been a while, did you want a coffee now?”

“That’s fine, I’ll have a shower first.”

Heather went back to the office and tidied up, not really doing any work, whilst Sophie freshened up. It was near half twelve when she walked back into the kitchen to find lunch had been prepared.

“What was the job last night?”

“A toad who told the wrong folk he had access to weapons.”

“Oh. Will I read about it in the paper?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it.”

“What were Devon & Cornwall doing with him?”

“Just babysitting, he came from military custody.”

The conversation ended there. Heather was naturally curious but equally there was a limit to how much Sophie could say, indeed Sophie probably wouldn’t know the full story.

The mail was still on the table and one envelope marked ‘Court Service’ was addressed to Heather. She opened it with trepidation whilst Sophie looked on. Inside was a proforma latter from the Cornish Courts informing Heather that she had been awarded £500 compensation in the case of R vs Smythe. A cheque was attached to the bottom of the letter.

“Compensation? I never asked for anything.”

“It’s fairly standard now, where there’s a clear victim. The money comes from the guilty party usually so I guess that came from the sale of his grandfather’s home?”

“But we don’t need it?”

“That’s not the point, he was found guilty of verbally assaulting you and has been punished for it, the compensation was a part of the punishment.”

“Well, what do we do?”

“Bank it first.”

“And then decide?”

“Yes. Right now it’s not achieving anything and you can’t give away the cheque.”

“True.”

“Are you doing any work that can’t wait?”

“No, what do you suggest?”

“We go into Truro for the afternoon?”

“To the bank?”

“Yes, but let’s have some ‘us’ time?”

“Can we stop at the swimming pool on the way? I need to get some info.”

“At Carn Brea?”

“That’s the one, it’s Doctor’s orders.”

Heather gathered her paperwork, her business account was at a bank in Truro and she couldn’t pay cheques into that account in Redruth. A visit to the County Town was therefore useful.

They were on the road just after one, but first headed West, stopping at the leisure centre so Heather could pick up the information for the fitness group on Mondays. There was a membership requirement so she had to complete a form.

“What brought you to us, Miss Young?”

“My Doctor suggested it, apparently I need ‘me’ time and regain some fitness?”

“Is there any medical condition we need to be aware of?”

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll see you on Monday for the Aqua Aerobics.”

Heather rejoined Sophie in the car.

“You took your time?”

“I had to join up.”

“So what are you doing?”

“Aerobics in the pool each Monday.”

“What time?”

“Oh, nine to ten. I can just delay my work day for an hour.”

Sophie put the car in gear and set off back towards Truro.

“Heather, how are you getting here?”

“I’ll drive, it’s only ten minutes?”

“Yes, but don’t expect to be back in your office until at least half past ten, or even eleven. I know you, you’ll want to put your towel and cossie in the washing machine, then make a coffee before you climb those stairs!”

“Oh, you know me too well!”

Twenty minutes later they were parked up. It was a dry day with crisp air in blue sunshine.

“Okay, where are we going?”

Sophie led Heather to a café, they sat outside at a small circular table and waited for the waitress. Sophie reached over to take Heather’s hand.

“Heather dear, will you be my wife?”

Heather looked Sophie in the eye. “I will.” She then burst into tears, just as the waitress arrived.

“Oh, I can come back?”

“No, no, I’m going to be married!”

“Oh, congratulations, to both of you. What can I get you?”

“Two coffees please, what cakes do you have?”

“New today are coffee or date and walnut. We also have apple and cinnamon plus a simple iced sponge.”

Heather had found a tissue in her bag and was busy dabbing her eyes so Sophie ordered two slices of date and walnut.

“Sophie reached for Heather’s hand again. “I’m sorry if I surprised you?”

“No, just startled. I have been thinking how I couldn’t have managed without you, how we were thrown together and yet fit together? I couldn’t imagine being without you!”

They sat in silence but Sophie hadn’t let go until their drinks and cakes arrived.

“How much?”

“No charge, we never charge for happy couples. All we ask is if we can take your photo?”

“Agreed, but no names please.”

Thankfully Sophie had chosen plain clothes, although that meant reverting to her standard black attire. Heather was in a long floral frock, covered by a lilac cardigan. Their waitress quickly took a photo and thanked them.

“Where will you use it?” Heather asked.

“On our website and on our social media outlets, it helps publicity.”

“Hmmm, okay.”

Neither of the pair used any social media applications or sites and had a policy of purging their browsing history regularly, although that did not mean they had escaped the data gathering employed by the global corporations.

A man who had been in the café left and gave the pair a look of disdain as he shuffled towards a nearby public park. The girls finished their gratis cakes and coffee but Heather left a tip on the table regardless. The pair walked, wandered, away holding hands.

“Are you in a hurry, Sophie?”

“No.”

“I need to get something fixed first, but I would love a summer wedding?”

“How about having your operation this year?”

“Probably not until the winter, or even next spring. I spoke to our GP about it last week.”

“You know that doesn’t worry me, and I don’t think we should worry about time, not yet.”

“Okay, but how about some rings?”

That took them into a High Street jewellery store for a pair of simple engagement rings, to be worn next to the eternity rings they’d bought at Christmas.

They didn’t splash out, there wasn’t any need as normally Sophie didn’t wear any jewellery.

They finally reached the bank so Heather could deposit the various cheques into her accounts, Sophie positioned herself by the street door, looking out.

Heather was done after a few minutes and joined her partner on the bank’s steps. “Seen anything interesting?”

There was a standing joke that Sophie was never, ever, off duty. “Not really.”

They started back towards the car, hand in hand, but found their way blocked by a middle aged man. Heather recognised him from the café, and thought she detected bad breath.

“Two birds getting married? We don’t do that down ‘ere.”

“Not interested, get out of the way and climb back into your hole.” Heather was quite forceful

“I think I’d do a better job than her!” He jabbed towards Sophie.

Heather moved between them. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. Walk away now, while you can.”

“Or what?”

Heather was getting tired. “Just piss off, will you.”

“For a kiss?” He leant forward, Heather could now smell alcohol in amongst the rest of his halitosis

A crowd had gathered, one or two were filming the evolving incident. Sophie pulled Heather back. “We’re going the other way around.”

The guy wasn’t finished and made a grab for Sophie as Heather was inaccessible. A moment later he was on the paving.

“Ooofff.”

“You’re under arrest for assault.”

She pulled a set of cuffs out of her shoulder bag and secured him.

“Up, you and I are going to have a little chat in the local nick.”

Their audience had now realised that Sophie was very serious, but her prisoner was now using crude Anglo Saxon terms. It wasn’t long before the local officers found them.

“Who do you think you are?”

“DS Grieve. I’ve arrested him for assault and I think there’s a hate crime available as well.”

Her name obviously rang a bell. “Ah, we’ll get some transport for him and then a statement?”

“Sure.”

The prisoner was given transport in a van but Sophie and Heather walked around to the police station, a short distance away and presented themselves at the front counter.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to interview a prisoner, my prisoner.”

“Which firm are you with?”

“Firm?”

“You’re a solicitor?”

“No, I’m DS Grieve.” Sophie retrieved her Met ID.

“I wasn’t aware …”

A familiar face was on the far side of the glass. “Leave this with me Constable.”

“Sir?”

Sophie and Heather were admitted into the inner sanctum. “Good afternoon Bob.”

“Hello, now what have the two of you been doing?”

“Taking a toerag off the street.”

“That’s our job.”

“We were assaulted and you weren’t there. Can we get down to custody?”

“No, the pair of you can give a statement then get out of here, leave it with us. Please.”

“Hmmm, why do I get the feeling we’re not wanted, Sophie?”

“On this, Heather, I’ll agree. Bob, We were having a good afternoon before that excuse for a man spoiled it. Anyone else would probably have suffered the abuse but I could do something about it and that seems to have upset a few in this building? How many members of the public has he harassed, bullied or assaulted? How many are too frightened to put in a complaint?”

Sophie turned and headed back towards the main door, with Heather close behind. They made it back to the car before Heather sobbed her heart out.

“Why, why?”

“I don’t know, my dear, but I thought Inspector Bob Willis was above that?”

“Take me home, please.”