Friday 12 – Sunday 14 May 2017
‘Did he at least leave something, anything that can point us in the right direction?’ DCI Jack Fraser rubbed his pounding temple. Without long-time partner DS Corbyn at his side, a mounting pile of cases on his desk, and two detective constables who were less competent than Corbyn, Fraser’s work life was a bitch of a place to be stuck.
‘We’ve got everything from his cell being brought over by forensics. Apparently, there’s a journal of some sort in his possessions. Maybe that’ll be useful,’ replied Burkett.
‘Guv, do we have any idea whether it’s a suicide? Or did Mackey get to Norton as well?’ DC Mark Pendleton joined the conversation.
‘Nothing official yet, but you know where I’d lay my money,’ replied Fraser.
Burkett knew Pendleton was thinking the same thing, so he voiced the question. ‘Mackey’s going to get away with everything now, isn’t he?’
‘Probably,’ Fraser lamented.
‘Any way we can pin anything on him?’
‘Not unless we want to step over the line, Burkett. I certainly don’t want to end my career a bent copper. What about you?’
Burkett shook his head. ‘My dad hated working with bent coppers, Guv. No way I’m going to let him down and become one of them.’
‘Looks like we stick to hard work then, gentlemen.’
* * * * *
Norton’s possessions arrived in the incident room once forensics had logged the individual items. Still sealed in plastic evidence bags, Pendleton and Burkett laid the items out on the central table. Fraser eyed them all, but the only thing he had any real interest in was Norton’s journal.
‘Make sure you’ve got latex gloves on before you take anything out of its bag. I don’t want any barrister crying foul about evidence contamination when we nail Mackey’s balls to the wall.’
Burkett and Pendleton held up their gloved hands for Fraser to see.
‘Good men, good men. Right, the journal first.’
Fraser broke the seal of the evidence bag containing the journal, and freed the book.
‘God, I hope he’s written everything about Roy Mackey and his business in here. If it’s a dear diary thing, I’ll – I don’t know what I’ll do.’ Fraser opened the cover to the first page of writing.
‘Well?’ Pendleton asked. Fraser flipped through half of the pages, and smiled.
‘We’re in luck, gentlemen. Kevin Norton’s documented what looks like every job he’s ever done for Mackey, and every job he’s ever heard Mackey order.’
‘So, we’ve got him?’
‘Bang to rights, Pendleton. We’ve got him bang to rights.’ Fraser’s smile widened the more he thought about the implications of Norton’s journal. ‘Mackey’s going to prison and he’s never coming out.’
‘Thank you, Kevin Norton, you foul, arsewipe of a cop assaulting, woman beater.’
‘You have a way with words, DC Pendleton.’ Fraser returned to his office on autopilot, avoiding chairs and desks, and other coppers. Pendleton and Burkett followed.
‘Next move, Guv?’ asked Burkett. Fraser sat in his chair, and laid Norton’s journal carefully on his desk.
‘Give me a few hours to go over this,’ he tapped the open page, ‘and then we’ll have another little chat with Roy Mackey. In the meantime, get on to the hospital and see how Corbyn’s doing. Tom doesn’t particularly want to talk to me at the moment. Report back to me as soon as you have any information about Corbyn.’
‘Sure thing, Guv,’ Pendleton said. He slapped Burkett on the shoulder as he left Fraser’s office to make the call.
‘Burkett, I want you to go through the other items that forensics brought in from Norton’s cell. See if there’s anything else of any value to us.’
* * * * *
Fraser sneered at the stupid smile spread across Mackey’s face. He wanted to knock it off with a cricket bat. Crompton, the solicitor, opened his mouth and was about to pass comment when Fraser spoke.
‘Kevin Norton left a journal. Did you know he wrote everything about every day down in a journal, Roy?’
‘So? Lots of people do,’ Mackey replied.
‘He wrote down names. And dates. And times. And places.’
‘Like I said, lots of people journal.’
Crompton looked uneasy. His solicitor’s mind was working overtime trying to process what Fraser could be about to say, and any way he looked at it, it wasn’t going to be good.
‘And best of all, Roy, best of all, by writing down all of that information, Norton’s dropped you right in it. You see, we’ve been busy looking at the things he wrote down, and comparing them with unsolved cases on our books. We’ve also started reassessing cases that were deemed suicides. Seems that quite a few of them already fit with information Kevin Norton wrote in his journal. You’re going to be going away for a very, very long time, Roy.’
Crompton grabbed Mackey’s arm and whispered in his ear. The smile fell away from Mackey’s lips. He gasped and stuttered a reply. ‘I-I-I-I, um, I want to-to-to make a deal.’
‘Not a chance, Mackey, not a chance.’
* * * * *
With charges laid against Roy Mackey, Fraser was trying to relax in his office. In truth, he was jumping out of his skin with excitement at the cases he’d managed to solve, and the momentous collar he’d made in Mackey. He didn’t see Pendleton approach his office until the DC was standing in the doorway.
‘What is it, Pendleton?’
‘It’s about DS Corbyn. I’ve got news.’
Fraser gave the detective constable his full attention. ‘Go on. How is she?’
Pendleton stepped into Fraser’s office, and took a seat on the couch by the door when Corbyn ordinarily would have sat.
. . . The end . . .