The Trouble with Dogs

Chapter One

Darwen, Lancs. Friday, 10th September 1992.

It was a cool morning, and a bruised grey sky promised rain when Ralph Connolly left his house, looking forward to a quiet morning. He opened the driver’s door of his vehicle recovery truck.

‘Come on, Sandy, let’s see what’s waiting for us at Pickup Bank.’

A small, smooth-coated terrier leapt up and scrambled in. He climbed in after it. The Jack Russell settled into the passenger seat as Ralph swung the truck off his drive and headed out of town. He enjoyed this part of his job far more than the usual breakdowns or accidents. No busy motorways, nobody to get in his way, asking daft questions or needing a lift home. Collect the burnt-out shell and dump it in the scrap yard, nice and simple. Direct payment from insurance companies made it easy money.

At the viewing point, Ralph lowered his stocky frame out of the cab, whilst Sandy jumped out and started sniffing around. A gusty breeze was blowing as the sky turned a shade darker. He shivered and pulled on his high-vis jacket. There was another burnt-out car, but he ignored that, confirming the registration and checking the scorched and blistered Golf he was collecting. Satisfied, he tossed his clipboard back into the cab. As he did, Sandy started barking, jumping at the driver’s door of the other shell.

‘What’s up, lass? Is he still in it?’ he said with a chuckle.

Sandy barked her response, then whimpered. He frowned and turned to look closer at the blackened, twisted shell of what he thought was a Fiesta.

‘Ruddy Nora!’ he said, looking at the dark mass seated on the bare metal frame of the driver’s seat. ‘He might be.’

Feeling strangely drawn to it, he stepped forward. As he did, the breeze shifted direction; the smell hit him, and he threw up.

After clearing his passages, he picked up Sandy and returned to his truck. He drove back the way he came, remembering the phone box outside the Grey Mare Inn, half-a-mile back.

‘Hello? DS Jeremies, please. Ralph Connolly here.’

Chapter Two

Matt Johnson, a six-foot Detective Chief Inspector of medium build, entered his office. He neatly stacked the statements Liz had dropped on his otherwise empty, clean desk, sat down, and began reading the first one. He opened his stationery drawer and took a pencil from the regimented line within, absent-mindedly checking the point was sharp. Almost. He took his sharpener and gave the pencil a quick twist, carefully deposited the shaving in the bin and returned the sharpener to its designated place. Looking at the pencil, he sighed; there had been nothing wrong with it. He kicked himself as he realised, all these years later, he still hadn’t lost all his bad habits.

Frank Jeremies, Matt’s trusted DS, knocked on his door, opened it, but paused.

‘You okay, Boss?’

‘Err, aye, grand. What’s up?’

‘It looks like we’ve got a fresh one.’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘You know that mate of mine, Ralph?’

‘The vehicle recovery bloke?’

‘That’s him. He’s at Pickup Bank collecting a Golf and found another burnt-out shell with a body in it. The smell made him chuck up, so I guess it’s still warm. He just phoned it through from a call box. I asked him to go back and stop anyone else sniffing around until we got there.’

‘Grand, have you told Uniform?’ Matt asked, returning the pencil to its place in the drawer and the statement squarely on the stack.

‘Yes.’

He reached for his bomber jacket. ‘What about the Divisional Surgeon and Scenes of Crime?’

‘I rang Geoff Roberts; he’ll meet us there. SOCOs are on their way.’

‘Well, since you’re so bloody organised, you can drive,’ said Matt, tossing him the keys to his Cavalier SRi.

Before they set off, Frank moved the driver’s seat closer. He was only an inch shorter than his boss, but being slimmer, felt the need to be closer to the steering wheel.

As they left the car park, he asked, ‘Wasn’t Penny going for a check-up today?’

‘Aye, Sue’s taken her this morning. I was hoping she’d have rung by now.’

‘The last thing you need today is this, then, eh?’

‘Not really. It’ll take my mind off it and we’re not expecting owt bad. Besides, there’s nowt I can do. Anyway, aren’t you having that trip away this weekend?’

‘Yeah, well, Gill’s called that off. Her mum’s ill in hospital, so she’s over in Leeds, staying there. She says she’ll not get out before next week.’

‘Oh, sorry to hear that. Owt serious?’

‘Apparently not, but still scary. They’re talking pacemaker. That could happen Monday, so Gill wants to be there. That puts us on hold again.’

‘Shame, but understandable. You okay talking about it? After all, it’s nowt to do with me, really.’

‘Course I am. I brought it up in the first place, and I’ve no secrets from you. In fact, it helps, you know, talking about it.’

‘So, how’s it been?’

‘No different, like treading on eggshells. The last four years have been enough. I can’t take much more.’

Frank’s resigned tone was much deeper and surprised Matt. ‘Blooming heck, Frank, that bad? Surely, you’ve got to give it another try. You two were beltin’ together before all this.’

‘I know, but that makes it worse. If only she’d accept the situation, I’m sure we could move on, but she won’t talk about it and just blames me for everything.’

‘Seems to me you need to get that weekend back on. Don’t chuck it all away just yet.’

Uniform were taping off the viewing point and closing the road when they arrived. Leaving Frank to talk to Ralph, Matt paused, donning a pair of gloves as he surveyed the scene; a pot-holed stone and gravel parking area surrounded by moorland grass and patches of heather, with no nearby buildings.

It had an excellent view across the valley; Hoddlesden below and Darwen beyond. On top of the hill across the valley he could see the Jubilee Tower, which even in the subdued light of this grey day, still boldly declared the 1896 victory by locals over the lord of the manor for free access in ‘the battle of the moors’. The promised rain began falling, driven by gusts in the stiff breeze, stinging his face, as muddy puddles began their frantic dance to the beat of the raindrops.

‘Bloody mess,’ he muttered, seeing only the burnt-out car shells and soggy litter scattered around the grassy edges. ‘What a miserable spot to pop your clogs in!’

He shivered, pulled the zip of his bomber jacket up tight to his neck, took a deep breath and headed straight to the Fiesta. Geoff Roberts, the rotund Divisional Surgeon, had his head just inside the driver’s side window.

‘How do, Geoff? What’ve we got?’

Geoff turned around, swept back his over-long mop of brown hair and said, ‘Give me a chance, Matt; I’ve only just got here myself. What I can tell you is we’ve a male, stabbed and burned, and this likely happened late last night.’ Looking down at his thermometer, he added, ‘The body’s still warm, but then so is the car. He wasn’t stabbed here, though; there’s no blood pool. I’ll know more when I get a proper look later. There’s what looks to be the frame of an attaché case on the passenger seat, but no murder weapon yet.’

Matt stepped closer. Can’t touch that car. It’s filthy with scum from that festering corpse. Leave ‘em to it. He ignored the intrusive thought, suppressing the urge to walk away. Momentarily closing his eyes, he composed himself before looking into the car. Glancing briefly at the congealed mass of burnt flesh and ashes, he wondered how the hell Geoff could tell he was male, let alone that he’d been stabbed. He never got used to looking at the dead; it always saddened him, but this one repulsed him. He quickly scanned the rest of the car for anything recognisable but saw nothing but metal and ashes, such was the devastation.

Pulling back, he said, ‘Ugh. We’ll let SOCO determine what the case is.’

‘Maybe. Not a lot for them to go on, or me for that matter.’

‘Ta, Geoff. Let us have your findings as soon as you can.’ Matt looked around; there were two white-clad SOCOs bending over something near the edge of the viewing area and another leaning into the back of the Fiesta, so he asked, ‘Who’s senior SOCO here?’

Ken Watson, the diminutive chief of the Blackburn Scenes of Crime Officers, lifted his head from under the tailgate and said, ‘That would be me, Matt, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop contaminating my crime scene. Let’s move away from the car.’

‘Ahh, sorry Ken; you all look the same, kitted out. Anyway, owt you can tell me?’

‘Not much more than Geoff yet. Not your usual twoccer, this.’

‘How d’you mean, other than him in the front?’

‘They normally just open the petrol filler, dip a rag in it, light it, and scarper; like that Golf over there. Not in this case; they must’ve poured a gallon of petrol in here before torching it. Look at what’s left; not much of the body, no clothes, nothing inside the car really, except metal and ashes, and the car body is visibly twisted. It has to get damned hot to do that. They also removed the number plates. Whoever did this intended leaving us nothing to go on, but we’d better carry out a search of the adjacent fields for the murder weapon, just in case.’

‘Agreed. We’ll have a word with Uniform. Ta, Ken. Let me have your initial report as soon as you can. Oh, and when you get the bonnet open, let us have the VIN.’

‘Sure, if they’ve not ground it off.’

Frank strode over. ‘What’ve we got, Boss?’

‘Bugger all yet, Frank, except your mate’s breakfast, and I don’t fancy that. All we know is the body’s male, and he were stabbed. Seems they destroyed any evidence in the car and chose their spot well; it’s quiet up here, even at this time of year. Look down the road; we’re hardly causing a traffic jam. If it weren’t for Ralph collecting that Golf, it could’ve been days before we heard owt about it. Once nature took its share, there’d be nowt much left of him. He could’ve easily ended up in the crusher, with no-one the wiser, poor sod.’

‘Ralph had nothing else. I’ve sent him off and told him to keep his trap shut.’

‘Grand. Have a word with Uniform to help SOCO look for the knife, standard search pattern. They’d best call on the locals to see if anyone saw or heard owt last night. Tell them not to mention the body. If anyone’s curious, we’re cracking down on joyriders.’

‘Sure thing. Shouldn’t take long; there’s not many places up here.’

‘As soon as we get back, check missing persons and stolen vehicles for the last week; any with a Fiesta. I’ve asked Ken for the VIN. Once we’ve got that, we’ll soon find out who’s it is. Someone must be missing this bloke and his car.’

Frank briefed the Uniform inspector before returning to Matt. ‘All organised. Back to the station, then?’

‘Aye, there’s nowt else we can do here and me kecks are sopping. How come it always rains at murder scenes?’

On their return, the Desk Sergeant handed Matt a message from Sue; a simple ‘All clear’. He smiled, then knocked on Detective Superintendent Andy Shaw’s door.

‘Excuse me, Sir, we’ve got what appears to be a murder on our hands.’

‘You’d better come in. I wanted a word with you, anyway.’

‘Thanks. We’ve got a body in a burnt-out car at Pickup Bank. According to Geoff, he were stabbed and bled out somewhere else, before being transported to the scene and put in the car before it they torched it.’

‘I see. Certainly sounds like murder. Who will you make SIO?’

‘I think it’ll have to be me. DS Campbell has enough on at the moment, and DS Smalling is still on restricted duties.’

‘Yes, I suppose it’s down to you. That’s fine, Matt. Just keep me posted. However, before you go, I’ve got some news. A Chief Super’s position has come up in Lancaster. I applied and I’ve been successful. That will leave my post vacant. Your track record, with your attention to detail and methodical practices, makes you the perfect candidate for this role, so I want you to apply for it.’

Matt was stunned. He had served under Andy Shaw since joining CID twenty years ago, having been in his current role for eight years now. Despite its challenges, he enjoyed his job. That stability, coupled with self-management and skilful avoidance amongst the chaos, had ensured his own stability. He was not expecting this, let alone being invited to apply for Andy’s job. The last thing he wanted was change.

As those thoughts flashed through his mind, he quickly composed himself, smiled and replied, ‘Congratulations, Sir. That’s grand news and well deserved. But me take over from you? I don’t know about that. Besides, I’m happy as I am, running this team; they’re good folk and I’m proud of what they do.’

Andy sighed. ‘That’s exactly the response I expected. You’ve always been reluctant to take on more responsibility. Sometimes, your own fear of yourself holds you back. Look how far you’ve come since getting a grip; a Sergeant on a final written warning to a successful DCI, with potential for much more.’

Matt ran his hand through his short, dark hair with flecks of grey heralding the onrush of middle age. ‘I’m chuffed you think so, but I’m not so sure.’

‘If it wasn’t for Sue, you’d have been out on your ear. You owe it to her to give this some serious thought. Why not discuss it with her first?’

Matt’s wife was his rock and her love was an invisible mesh that held him together in troublesome times. It was Sue who persuaded him to seek the help he desperately needed back in his Sergeant days.

‘It’ll mean more regular hours, not to mention the pay rise.’

‘Aye, I get that, but you know what I can be like under pressure, and as for mixing with the top brass; well, I’m cut from coarser cloth. There’s better than me in this nick.’

‘I doubt that; you’re a perfect fit. The pressure’s no worse than you’re used to, and nobody gives a damn about your background. You’re right, I do know what you’re like and that’s why I want you sitting here.’

Matt recoiled inwardly. Just being in this office with no redeeming features except the door was unpleasant for him. The smell of cigarette smoke clung to every surface, although Andy refrained in his presence, and even his old oak desk felt tacky. On a bad day, it seemed to Matt like the walls were dripping with nicotine and tar, but today was not a bad day.

‘It’s unlikely there’ll be another opening in this division for some years. This could be a brilliant move for you, with your young family.’ He paused. ‘That reminds me, how’s your daughter doing? Penny, isn’t it? It must be two years since she had the op.’

‘Aye. Her recovery were amazing for a nipper, but it’s a long-term thing. She’s doing grand and faring well at school. If owt, it’s made her stronger. She’s had a check-up at The Christie this morning. I’ve just had a message from Sue that she’s got the all clear.’

‘That’s excellent news. Pass on my best wishes. Now, give this some thought and discuss it with Sue over the weekend. Is there anything else?’

‘No, I’ve nowt else. If you’re happy, I’ll get cracking with this Pickup Bank murder.’

‘I’ll be happy when I see that application on my desk. We’ll talk again on Monday.’

As he opened the door of the incident room, Matt’s mind was still on Andy’s revelation when an intrusive thought threw him off-kilter. Crap everywhere. What a mess. Look at them, total chaos. Got to sort it out.

He saw a chaotic scene of noisy, dirty people floundering around, casually spilling papers, knocking files off dirty desks in a filthy room.

Matt blinked and re-focussed. The room was fine. Busy people were discussing cases or typing reports, albeit in a cramped and tired room, part of the outdated Blackburn Police Station.

‘Try to keep things tidy, you lot,’ he said as he walked through.

In his office, Matt reflected on his psychologist, emphasising the need for continuity in a stable environment where possible. Whichever way he looked at it, change was inevitable; either he takes Andy’s role or someone else does.

He thought about whether he could hack it as a Super, how he could handle meetings with the top brass. That reminded him about how things got so out of control when he was a Detective Sergeant. After loving his time in Uniform, but hating dealing with the dregs of society, he gained his stripes and sought a move to CID. He wanted a new start; a cleaner, less hands-on role, but it soon turned into a living nightmare. Susceptible to every intrusive thought or vision that entered his head, they would accumulate until he lost control or left a crime scene, unable to look at, let alone touch, a body. There was worse, but he kept those memories locked away, never revealed, not even to Sue. They had laid no blame on Matt, but he knew different.