Leading Edge

By Mike Crowson

Where there's a will there's a motive - and when an apparently wealthy man offers to leave everything to his Swedish live in lover, but only if she marries him, they BOTH are murdered. DS Lucy Turner is acting up as a DI and wants to discover who killed them and why. A complicated and fast moving story starts in Witchmoor Edge and ends with a chase across a Swedish winter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Crowson
• Release date: Dec 26, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458086556

Mike Crowson

Former teacher, former national secretary of what became the UK Green Party and for 40 years a student of things esoteric and occult. Now an occult and esoteric consultant offering free and unconditional help to those in serious and genuine psychic or occult trouble

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Leading Edge

D.I. Millicent Hampshire and the Witchmoor Edge CID

Mike Crowson

Copyright 2008 Mike Crowson

Smashwords Edition 2010

Leading Edge

Prologue

The bedroom was to the rear of the house and the view from the window was both tranquil and beguiling. The foreground was a fifty-metre sweep of semi-cultivated garden, down to the reeds at the edge of a very blue lake, placid in the early morning sun. There was a wooden landing stage stretching out into the still water, but the small sailing boat was drawn up onto dry land. The grass between the apple and plum trees and the raspberry canes and redcurrant bushes was in no sense a lawn, kept from growing too wild by a couple of goats old Anders had borrowed from a neighbour and tied with lengths of rope to two of the trees. Across the lake, individually recognisable conifers merged into a sombre dark green tint to the low hills, rolling darkly away towards the more violet-grey of the mountains in the distance. A slight morning mist hovered over the further margins of the lake, and three birds rose from the still water in a flurry of ripples, to join a flight already migrating south.

It was a peaceful and pleasant view, verging even on wilderness and ideal to calm the troubled city soul or entrance a lover of things wild and natural, but the couple in the bedroom were too preoccupied with each other to take much heed of the scenery. It was true the man especially came from further afield and also true that the very seclusion that lent calm to their surroundings was one which they both, for their own private reasons, found welcome.

Blonde hair was strewn across the pillow, the woman's breath came in short gasps as her climax neared, and she clung on more tightly with arms and legs a little tanned from the sun.

She was not quite as young as she looked nor, perhaps, as innocent. He was a little older than her, a head of dark hair well trimmed and a fit frame, with muscled shoulders and arms, which held his weight off her. She almost screamed in her ecstasy and he made wild grunting sounds, but there was no one to be disturbed by their lovemaking. Not here and not now, anyway.

At the front of the house there was a long gravel driveway, leading through some pines to a paved road leading up towards the village. Among the trees out front of the house was just the dark blue Volvo in which she had picked him up from Västerås airport two nights before. A white van cruised softly down the tarmacadamed road towards the lake, and a dog barked somewhere up towards Tysslinge,

Chapter 1

The car had smashed through the dry-stone wall, lurched across the tufted grass at least ten or twelve metres, bouncing like the ball in a pinball machine off some rocks on the way, and had been prevented only by a tree from reaching a small stream. DC Tommy Hammond left his own car by the roadside, stepped carefully through the gap in the wall and crossed the field.

The crash had been fatal - which was part of the reason why the traffic division had asked the CID to look into it - but the bodies had been removed and what remained of the tangled metal would shortly be hauled off for forensic investigation. Although someone from the SOCO team would take photographs before the wreck was removed - may already have taken them, come to that - Tommy wanted to see it 'in situ' for himself. It would most probably end up as no more than a traffic division job, unless forensic found something to investigate, or his own brief examination of the facts turned up anything unusual.

Tommy was in his late twenties and smart to a fault, with knife-edge creases and carefully groomed appearance. He walked cautiously over the uneven ground, taking in the scene.

That car must have been going some to smash through the wall and get this far, he thought. He also wondered why the car had gone through the wall, instead of somersaulting over it, as usually happens if the vehicle hits a verge and wall at speed. Perhaps there had already been a gap in the wall.

The crash itself told him little. The driver's side front of the vehicle was crushed against the tree and a clear hole in the windscreen on the passenger side suggested that an unbelted passenger had gone at least a part way through. Tommy knew from the report that two people had died, so there had been a passenger.

"Two fatalities,' he thought, 'but even if it wasn't fatal, the passenger's injuries would have been horrific.' He wondered why he or she had not been belted in: the law was no longer commonly broken.

He walked round the wreck, noting that the nearside front wheel was missing. A careful look at the area around the remains showed no sign of it. Puzzled, he strolled back across the field, looking for any sign of the missing wheel. This crash had occurred at the bottom of a steep slope. The car must have come straight down the steep hill and failed to make the sharp right hand bend over the hump back bridge and crashed through the wall. The angle of the gap in the wall looked a little odd, though.

Tommy reached the wall and gazed up the hill. As he had thought, the angle wasn't quite right and, as he studied, frowning, he realised that the vehicle had come down the less steep hill on the far side of the bridge, bent to the right, crossed and then swerved to the right instead of turning left up the hill. He thought he could see why. He could also see why the traffic division had called them in so early on.

The missing wheel lay jammed up against the wall part way round the bend and some distance from the gap in the wall. It must have come completely adrift as the car flew over the hump back bridge, causing the lurch to the right at just the wrong moment. Probably the driver had tried to brake and the brakes on the two right hand wheels had pulled him sharply to the right. Well, forensics would go into the how and why and he would know soon enough whether they agreed with his speculation. His mobile rang.

DC. Hammond, he said.

Lucy here, DS Turner said in her slightly Birmingham accent. Our Millie wants you and me to pop into her office as soon as you get back.

What does she want?

Search me. She says it's confidential.

So what's the secret? Tommy asked, presuming that Lucy knew already, or at least could guess..

I told you, she wouldn't say. If she played it any closer to her chest it would be pornographic. Are you going to be long? I'm itching to know and she won't say a word 'till we're both there.

Tommy glanced at his watch. I've finished here anyway, he said, brushing his jacket sleeve where he had been leaning against the wall. I was going to call on the victims' home and see what the lie of the land is, but I'll need to get some more details from traffic division first, so I could be back in about fifteen minutes, if it's important.

Millie made it sound important, said Lucy. See you in fifteen, then. She rang off

Tommy replaced his mobile phone on his belt, took a last look around and stepped back through the gap in the wall.

Turning the car on the blind bend was too dangerous, so he slipped it into gear and drove over the bridge, round the tight left hand bend and up the hill on the other side, looking for somewhere safe to turn.

Back at the Witchmoor Edge Police Headquarters in Tolpuddle Road, Tommy left his car in the car park and climbed the back stairs to the CID office. Lucy was waiting for him impatiently.

Right, she said, Let's get up and see Millie.

Up?

She's in CDI Cooke's office up a floor.

Detective Inspector Millicent Hampshire was sitting at the Chief Inspector's desk with Chief Superintendent Johnson, the head of the Witchmoor Division of West Yorkshire police, sitting in the only armchair. Millicent was a formidable but friendly, part afro-Caribbean woman who had come to West Yorkshire Police from the army. She had been a junior officer in the bomb squad in Northern Ireland, and both Lucy and Tommy knew that this was not unconnected with the death of her late Spanish policemen husband in an ETA car bomb blast. She was a good detective partly because she drove herself very hard and partly because she was psychic, though she tried to play down that element of her character. Why the senior office was there, neither Tommy nor Lucy could guess.

Millicent Hampshire was in her early forties, rather tall for a woman, fit and sinewy. She made no attempt to tint out the few wisps of grey that might be considered 'distinguished' in a man. She had been talking to the Chief Superintendent but she looked up as the detectives entered and gestured them towards the two vacant chairs.

Sit down, she said. The Chief Superintendent has something to tell you.

You carry on and tell them, Johnson said.

As you know Melissa Cooke has been ill in hospital for a while and CDI Cooke has been off work himself for a couple of weeks, Millicent began. The Chief Superintendent has agreed to allow the CDI three months leave without pay. Melissa is more seriously ill with cancer than anyone thought and not expected to live long. CDI Cooke quite understandably has personal problems with a distressing situation, quite apart from the physical problems associated with it.

Millicent glanced towards Johnson and he nodded.

Because this is 'leave' and therefore a temporary situation, she continued, it has been decided not to fill the vacancies at this stage. As a result, I will be 'acting' as CDI for three months. Because DS Gibbs has just received a permanent promotion to inspector and moved to the Leeds division, you, DS Turner, will be acting as Detective Inspector and will use my office temporarily. You, DC Hammond, will be acting Detective Sergeant.

You do realise what a first rate career opportunity circumstances have delivered you, Johnson remarked. Get through the these three months well and it will stand you in good stead on your records, so make the most of it.

I take it, said Millicent, That applies to all three of us.

Of course, Johnson agreed.

Is there any money in it, Lucy asked hopefully.

Oh yes, the Superintendent replied. You'll be paid at the appropriate rate for the three months.

Neither Tommy nor Lucy said anything, but they exchanged satisfied glances.

You'd better move your things into my office, Millicent said to Lucy. I've already shifted up here so you have the run of my office, but keep it tidy. I might want it back in a couple of months and I don't want to be ploughing through a mess.

I hope you're joking, Johnson said. Keeping organised and tidy is a major part of keeping on top of administration

Yes, Millicent. 'The army taught me the importance of looking efficient."

Whether you are or not? said Lucy.

The three 'B's, Millicent said. Bullshit baffles brains. Always look organised and most people will assume you are. Anyway, she continued to the Superintendent, I was mainly joking. DS Turner - or should I say, Acting DI Turner - is better organised than me a lot of the time, but she ... er ... always seems to have a lot of things on the go at once.

Lucy wondered whether Millicent was referring to her usual refrain - 'Quick, look busy, here comes the boss.' The DI was looking at her with a glint in her eye that suggested she knew the refrain well and was referring to it.

Well, it's an opportunity but it won't be easy, Johnson said. We'll be a bit short staffed, especially until we get DS Gibbs's replacement.

You'd better get about your business, Millicent said. Superintendent Johnson will be putting it in writing and I'll tell the department as a whole in a few minutes, but the acting up begins immediately.

Tommy and Lucy both stood up, both looking slightly dazed.

Right, Lucy said. I suppose I'd better get my gear shifted, so to speak.

Neither Millicent nor the Chief Superintendent could decide whether she was referring to herself or her belongings.

I'd better get on as well, Tommy Hammond said.

When they had left the room, Millicent remarked, They're a good bunch here at Witchmoor CID and we'll survive, though there'll be a lot of pressure if anything big comes up.

Try and avoid using uniformed personnel if you can, said the Superintendent. And when it really is essential, try and use them in a high profile way that keeps them in the public eye. Door to door and road blocks, things like that. It makes Joe public feel safer to see uniforms around.

Fortunately there's nothing very big at the moment, Millicent said. That was about to change.

Lucy, now DI Turner (Acting) looked around the office. It was quiet in here, and she'd miss the comings and goings of the main CID office. Still, she didn't think she'd be in here much. She picked up the phone and called the main office. DC Bright answered.

Could you ask Tommy to pop into my ... DI Hampshire's office, she said, remembering just in time that Millicent hadn't made a public announcement yet.

Sure, he said. As he put the phone down she heard him yell, "Tommy! Lucy wants you in Millicent's office.

Good morning, inspector' said Tommy with a grin as he entered. I trust your office is satisfactory, ma'am."

Quite, thank you, sergeant, she said, breaking down in laughter.

Is it lonely at the top? Tommy asked solicitously.

Oh yes, said Lucy, but you eat better! I'm going across to the George and Dragon in the Market Place in a few minutes. I'm going to celebrate, but the food's good too. D'you feel like coming with me?

Sounds like a good idea, but you didn't call me in just for small talk. What did you want?

A quick review of what we've got on at the moment. Now, Matthew Bright and Sarisha Patel are following up those corner store robberies that may have a racist angle and Gary Goss is working on that hit and run in the Bradford Road last week.

You could take him off anything active on that, Tommy suggested. We're not getting anywhere, so you could let traffic handle it and leave him to keep an eye on it.

Possibly, Lucy agreed. What have you got?

I was looking over a fatal car crash. I think I can see why it came to us so quickly, but I can't do much until I hear from forensic.

Yes?

It looked to me like a wheel came right off quite a luxury car at the wrong moment. I thought I'd go and talk to the victims' family and see what they say. With that and the forensic report we should be able to tell whether there's anything in it for us.

Anything else?

I've a few loose ends to tie up in the antiques racket you and Millie rumbled. It's due in court soonish.

Oh yes, Lucy said, grinning as she reminisced in her mind. The old school friends, the Ann Summers sexy underwear party and the thefts that never were.

We'll have a tighter weekend and night schedule for a while, Lucy continued. Our Millie has said she'll take a turn and Bradford Division are lending us a DS Newman for a week or two until we get a permanent replacement for DS Gibbs. He won't have the local knowledge, of course, but it will make the routine stuff and the shift patterns a bit easier."

We'll cope, said Tommy.

Right, how about lunch and then you can check out your crash victims, she stood up and took her jacket from behind her chair. Do they have a name, by the way?

The bloke was Len Marshall and the woman was his very new wife, name of Ulla. Svensson until two days ago. That's all I know.

She sounds Scandinavian, remarked Lucy, heading for the door. Come on.

Chapter 2

The only way onto the estate was through firmly closed wrought iron gates set into a wall fronting the road, but Acting DS Tommy Hammond could see a bell push and gate entry phone on the gatepost. He stepped out of his car, went up to the bell and rang.

There was a pause and Tommy looked around as he waited. A gravelled driveway curved to the left through trees and a lodge house or gatehouse stood next to the gates in its own garden. It was more than a guardhouse, stone built and possibly purpose built only a few years ago, but small enough to have no more than two bedrooms. A dog barked, but it was neither near nor menacing.

Yes? enquired an adult male voice that was not particularly friendly or welcoming.

Witchmoor Edge CID, said Tommy. I've come to interview the family and staff of the late Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.

I'll open the gate for you. Wait there a minute and I'll be out to look at your identity.

A middle-aged man stepped out onto the side of the drive from the lodge or whatever it was. He walked up to gate and peered through it at Tommy's warrant card. The guard, if that's what he was, wore what might have been dark blue uniform trousers with a blue shirt, but the top button of the shirt was undone and the sleeves were rolled up. He was of medium height and build with close cropped hair, so short it was almost shaved.

Good afternoon, Tommy said. I take it you are a guard or gatekeeper of some kind.

You might say that, the man agreed, vaguely and unhelpfully.

Your name, sir?

Cyril Marshall, said the man.

You're related to the crash victim, Mr. ... er, Tommy tried to remember the full name. Mr. Len Marshall?

Leonid was my older brother.

Oh, sorry, I thought you were an employee.

I am, said Cyril. At least I was when he last spoke to me. I'm employed as head of security for him. For head of security read 'man who opens the gates to anyone he wants to see.'

The implication was that the people Leonid Marshall hadn't wanted to see hadn't got in.

He leads a secluded life? Tommy suggested.

He led a secluded life, Cyril said. He didn't have many friends.

Many enemies? Tommy enquired.

He made a few, Cyril said a little cautiously. He was owner of a successful business. He'd few friends and he made some enemies along the way. I was more a keeper-out of people he didn't want to see than letter-in of people he did want to see.

Cyril Marshall did not sound particularly supportive of his brother, nor particularly resentful either, but he was certainly being very forthright about him and his job was a rather menial one considering the close relationship. All the same, he didn't sound dull or uneducated: he had the clipped vowels of an educated northerner, rather than a local West Yorkshire accent. If it turned out that someone had tampered with Len Marshall's car, Cyril looked on the face of it to be a suspect. Tommy wondered whether he would benefit under the terms of any will.

Did you see Mr. and Mrs. Marshall go out last night? Tommy asked, turning more directly to the accident.

The gates will open with a radio device like a garage door opener. Len had one, Ulla had one and the chauffeur had one. So had Kevin and Olga and Olga's husband. None of them ever bothered me, coming or going so, no, I didn't see them go out yesterday evening, but that's not significant. And before you ask I didn't hear them either or know anything in advance about them going out.

A chauffeur, you said. Did they drive themselves much?

Cyril thought about it. She did, quite a bit, he said. In fact usually when she was on her own, I'd say. He didn't often and they normally had the chauffeur drive when they went out together, but it wasn't totally unknown for them to drive themselves, particularly if it was local or late, like.

'Unusual but not unknown,' Tommy thought. 'That