Good Bait (DCI Karen Shields #1)(73)
‘Absolutely,’ Karen said. ‘Very nicely put. But our interest is in one particular vehicle. The uses to which it might have been put.’
‘Uses?’ Broderick said. ‘Uses? You’ve just been told. Meeting orders, making deliveries, what do you think?You want to see the manifests, I can show you. Two hundred and fifty precooked meals to a primary school in Spalding. More of the same to a group of nursing homes in Saffron Walden. Vacuum-packed sausages and salamis to Londis stores right across Essex, from Chelmsford to the Thames f*cking Estuary.’
Patches of bright colour stood out on his cheeks.
‘And these?’ Karen said, sliding the photographs from their folder. ‘You delivered these?’
Broderick looked, caught his breath, looked again.
‘Oh, Christ!’ he said softly, and angled his head away.
The solicitor leaned forward, then forward again, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing in four glossy 10 x 8s.
‘The bodies of three men,’ Karen said. ‘Systematically tortured, mutilated, finally killed. Murdered. Then transported in that van, your van, to a storage unit at Stansted airport. That’s the delivery we’re interested in.’
All trace of colour had gone from Broderick’s face.
‘I’d like a break.’
‘Later.’
‘Now. Please.’
‘My client,’ the solicitor said, ‘has just undergone a considerable shock—’
‘I’m sorry, we need to continue.’
‘Then I insist that my protest be documented–’
‘Five minutes,’ Cormack said in Karen’s ear. ‘Five minutes, ten. No harm.’
‘Very well,’ Karen said. ‘A short break, agreed.’
She didn’t like it, but she knew Cormack was right: the last thing they wanted, whatever Broderick might say rendered inadmissible by accusations of shock tactics, statements obtained under duress.
When Broderick sat across from her again, some ten minutes later, he seemed calmer, a degree more composed.
‘Have you any idea,’ Karen asked, ‘how your van–?’
‘Not my van.’
‘Your firm’s van, could have been used in the way I’ve described?’
‘If it was.’
‘It was.’
He looked as if he were about to argue the point, but, after a quick head shake from his solicitor, changed his mind. ‘None at all.’
‘After it was leased, the van was kept where?’
‘The Bedford depot.’
‘Off the Al?’
‘The Al, right.’
‘Not at Wing?’
‘No.’
‘You do have a storage unit there?’
‘Not any more.’
‘So the van …’
‘The van would have been based at Bedford, as I said.’
‘And how many people would have had access to it there? Yourself aside.’
‘Four? Five? Possibly more.’
‘How many more?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t say for sure.’
‘Run a tight ship,’ Ramsden observed.
‘The keys to all the vans are kept in the office,’ Broderick said. ‘Other than at night, they’re not locked away.’
‘So anyone could come along, just borrow one of your vehicles?’
‘In theory, yes.’
‘In practice?’
‘In practice there’s a daily schedule, someone there in the office, logging them in and out.’
‘Twenty-four hours?’
‘Um?’
‘Logging them out, twenty-four hours a day?’
‘Obviously not.’
‘You don’t keep a check on mileage?’
‘If one of the vehicles was getting a lot of extra use it would be noticed, yes, but otherwise, no.’
‘And do they get used?’ Ramsden asked. ‘Your employees, personal use. Outside normal hours. That happens? Running the kids to the football, stuff like that?’
‘Sometimes, yes.’
‘Use them sometimes yourself?’
‘Once in a while.’
‘Recently?’
‘Not recently.’
‘You sound very certain.’
‘I am.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘I know, because apart from shifting it round the yard a couple of times, since we took delivery of that van, I doubt I’ve been behind the wheel.’
‘Well, somebody was.’
‘Yes, well. That’s sort of your problem then, isn’t it? Not mine. So if there’s nothing else …’
He glanced at his solicitor, who gave a small nod.
‘I do think,’ the solicitor said, ‘my client has helped you all he can.’
Broderick started to rise, push back his chair.
‘Ask him about Gordon Dooley,’ Cormack said in Karen’s ear.
‘Gordon Dooley,’ Karen said. ‘He’s a friend of yours?’
‘Gordon?’ Broderick hesitated, sat back down. ‘Yes, why?’
‘A good friend?’
‘Ye-es.’