Devil in the Detail by A.J. Cross (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

Wright. Detective Inspector Watts. Tell us what happened here.’

Wright gave each of them a nervous glance. ‘It started out as a nice dry evening—’

‘Skip the weather report. I want to know when you arrived, how you arrived, what you did after that and how that’s led to us being really interested in you.’

‘I got here around seven p.m.’ He pointed at a dark-coloured people carrier some distance away. ‘That’s my vehicle over there.’

Watts glanced at it, raised a hand to Reynolds and pointed, watched him move like a greyhound towards it. He turned back to Wright who was now looking very apprehensive. ‘It’s taxed and MOT’d. I know I shouldn’t fish here but where’s the harm?’

‘A magistrate will soon be explaining that to you. Carry on.’

‘I’d just set up here, on my own.’ He looked from Watts to Traynor. ‘I like being on my own. I like fishing. For the solace.’

Watts’ eyes narrowed.

‘I’ve got four kids! I come here for some peace and quiet.’

‘OK, Mr Wright. Get to the point.’

‘I had my line fully out, and I was just sitting waiting and having a quiet smoke.’ He eyed Watts. ‘No, no. Nothing dodgy. I can’t smoke at home. All our kids are asthmatic. Anyway, there I was, waiting and …’ Seeing impatience, he hurried on: ‘Suddenly, the line went taut. Tight as you like. I grabbed up my rod. Gave it a pull. Nothing. Then another. Still nothing. Then, something sort of gave and I thought the line had broken but no, there was still the weight on it.’ Wright was now looking animated. ‘I reeled it in, careful-like, raised the rod which was bent right over and …’ He looked at Watts and whispered, ‘There it was. Swinging from the hook. Sodden. Dripping. The line wrapped around it; the hook caught in it. I pulled it in, reached for it. That’s when I saw it.’

‘Saw what?’ snapped Watts.

‘The pattern of letters on it. Little “G”s all over it. Like they said on the radio. Gucci.’ He pronounced it ‘Gooshey’.

‘What did you do then?’

‘I opened it up and … there was stuff inside.’

Watts stared at him, glanced at Traynor. What this man in his waders and comical hat had just given them was a direct link to the Lawrence shootings. ‘Get the stuff out and have a look at it, did you?’

Wright’s eyes widened. ‘You’re joking! I didn’t want to get mixed up in any shootings. I closed the bag up, threw it back into the water and went off to see a friend of mine who lives down the road.’

Watts looked at the water then at Wright. ‘Why?’

‘I was on edge seeing that bag. I didn’t want any part of it, but I’d seen it, hadn’t I?’

‘So, you came back.’

‘Yes. I had a rethink. About what happened to that couple, so I phoned you lot.’

Watts turned on his heel. ‘Be at police headquarters at nine a.m., Mr Wright, to give a statement. Don’t be late.’

‘But I’ve got the school run …’

Watts turned and gave him a look.

‘I’ll be there.’

Wright got into his vehicle and left. Watts watched him go. He started at Traynor’s voice immediately behind him.

‘This is an interesting development.’

An hour later they were still watching the search of the dark pool.

‘If I believe Wright, he’s turned this investigation on its head. If it ever was a robbery, it isn’t now.’ Watts checked his watch. It was well past midnight and he’d called a full briefing for nine thirty in the morning. ‘It’s too dark to find anything now, so I’ll tell them to pack it in—’

A sudden shout brought them to the water’s edge where two officers in waterproofs and watch caps were moving in unison, up to their chests, their arms beneath the icy water, one of which slowly broke the surface, rose into the air, the hand clutching something dark by a long, slender strap.

Watts and Traynor waited as two forensic officers spread white plastic sheeting, watched as one of the search team made it out of the water, a SOCO taking the bag from him in latex-covered hands. Watts and Traynor went to the sheeting. A video camera was raised. They watched another SOCO carefully open the bag and let its contents slide slowly out. The small items were carefully separated. Watts and Traynor got down for a closer look at jewellery, including rings, one with an impressive square stone, an earring which looked similar. What had been done to the Lawrences hadn’t made a lot of sense. Knowing Molly Lawrence’s bag with their valuables still inside had been jettisoned here made even less.

‘Traynor, I’d like you to explain to me what sort of person arms himself, gets into a car, steals jewellery, shoots two people, leaving them for dead, then lobs what he got into a mucky pond.’

Traynor took a pen from his inside pocket, crouched close to the items and carefully repositioned them, absorbing their detail. ‘I don’t know. I’m guessing someone who wanted something else.’ He looked up at Watts. ‘One earring is missing.’

Watts eyed the jewellery. ‘Have a look inside the bag.’

Traynor opened it, inverted it. Nothing fell from it. Watts straightened. ‘I can’t see Wright taking it, leaving the rest, then coming back and phoning us. It looks to me like it got washed into the water. We’ll never find it.’ He looked at Traynor. ‘What’s up?’

‘There’s something here … something I’m missing.’

‘You don’t say. The longer I run this investigation, the more I learn, the less bloody sense it makes, and that, Traynor, is not good.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ll shift tomorrow morning’s briefing to the afternoon.’ He looked around. ‘Reynolds!’ The young officer rushed to Watts’ side. ‘Got a job for you. Be at headquarters at nine a.m. to take Colin Wright’s witness statement.’

‘Sir!’

Watts closed his eyes, opened them. ‘When you do, bear in mind that you, as an officer, have the authority in that situation and you use it where necessary. Don’t take any