Shifting Skin

Chapter 20

Once again Rick was in before him and Jon felt a slight pang of irritation. ‘Up with the chirp of the sparrow again.’

‘Where’s that expression from?’

Jon thought for a moment. ‘My grandpa used to come out with it. Must be an Irish one.’

‘Yeah, you mentioned your family was originally from

Galway.’

‘A little fishing village called Roundstone. Ever visited the west coast of Ireland?’

Rick shook his head.

‘You should do. Catch it right and it’s the most beautiful place on earth.’

‘So have your family always been in the job?’

Jon laughed. ‘No, I’m the first. My great-great-granddad moved over here with his two brothers. They all worked as navvies on the Manchester Ship Canal. My great-granddad did, too, only he supplemented his income in another way.’

‘Oh, yeah? Doing what?’

Jon couldn’t keep the pride from his voice. ‘He was a champion bare-knuckle fighter. Made enough from it to get the family out of their slum in Little Ireland.’

Rick grinned. ‘Well, that explains a few things.’

Jon felt his face flush as he realised Rick was referring to the confrontation in the alley the previous night. ‘Bare-knuckle fighting was a big thing back then. He was a real celebrity. Anyway, never mind that. What have you got there?’

‘The tape from the Novotel. The receptionist had it ready in an envelope, bless her.’

‘Have you been through it yet?’

‘I wasn’t in that bloody early.’ He stood up. ‘Shall we?’

They went through to the side room that housed the VCR unit. Jon immediately opened a window, then picked up an ashtray full of cigarette butts and placed them outside on the windowsill. Rick slid the tape in, turned the telly on and picked up the remote. The tape was time-lapse, comprising of a series of images taken at two-second intervals. The result was infuriatingly disjointed footage of the hotel foyer.

‘God, shall I get the paracetamol now?’ Jon sighed.

‘From the hotel’s records, he checked in at two seventeen p.m.,’ said Rick, turning the tape on to picture search, making the images seem even more random. After ten minutes of the machine whirring, he hit Play again. ‘There he is, still with his moustache.’

They watched Gordon Dean check in, then vanish into a lift carrying one large bag and a protective cover for suits.

Jon went to his notebook. ‘Right, he was the last customer at that hairdresser’s in Affleck’s Palace at about six p.m., and he was eating in Don Antonio’s by around seven.’

Rick hit the picture search again, stopping it at 6:15. A few minutes later Gordon Dean appeared at the top of the picture, crossing the corner of the foyer on his way to the lift. His hair was short, his moustache shaved off.

‘I’m a different person now,’ Rick sang under his breath. Thirty-five minutes later he reappeared, now in his black shirt.

‘OK, so far so good,’ said Jon, consulting his notes. ‘Now, he’s out around town for the next few hours. We know he used his card at the petrol station at Ardwick Green at three oh eight a.m. Next activity is the cashpoint on Miller Street where he maxed out his card at six forty-three. After that he paid for the car park at Piccadilly station at seven oh five. That’s another thing that strikes me as odd.’

‘What?’ Rick pressed Pause.

‘That cashpoint is way out of the route you’d take driving from the Novotel to Piccadilly station. What’s wrong with the Barclays just up on Portland Street or the ones in the station itself?’

Rick was looking blank.

‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

They walked into the main room and crossed to the street map of Manchester pinned to the wall. ‘Here. Miller Street. Why drive all the way to there?’

‘I see what you mean.’

Jon held up a finger. ‘Unless you’re avoiding city-centre cashpoints because you don’t want to be seen.’ He waved his finger in a circle over his head. ‘Manchester has the most comprehensive network of cameras in any British city. Almost every cashpoint is covered by CCTV. But I’m almost certain that one out on Miller Street isn’t.’

‘Why the sudden subterfuge?’

‘I don’t know.’

Rick turned the remote over in his hand. ‘How about this? He whisks her off to a rented property somewhere, snuffs her out and removes her skin. Then he dumps her on the grass in Belle Vue. But something goes wrong, making him panic. So he empties his bank account and flees town.’

‘Or how about this? He picks up the condoms at the petrol station, and they head back to the Novotel and get down to business. An hour later, she’s given him such an incredible time, he thinks, Fuck it all, let’s get out a wedge of cash, jump on the train and go off somewhere to enjoy ourselves for a few days. Somewhere remote, no cashpoints anywhere near.’

Rick rocked his head from side to side, weighing the argument up. ‘Doesn’t explain his shady behaviour. I’d say seven to one my theory’s correct.’

‘Bollocks,’ Jon replied. ‘That tenner’s mine.’

Rick laughed. ‘OK, we need to scan the Novotel tape for when he got in. Some time between leaving that petrol station and visiting the Miller Street cashpoint.’

‘That’s almost four hours,’ Jon said, walking away. ‘I’ll get the coffees and paracetamol now.’

They’d got to 6:04 a.m. on the videotape when it clicked to a halt. They stared at the blank screen for an instant before looking at each other.

‘Shit,’ they announced simultaneously.

Rick ejected the tape and looked at the label. ‘It runs from six in the morning to the same time next day.’

‘So we need the next one. That’s bloody typical.’

Rick pointed to the telephone number on the label. ‘No worries, I’ll phone her.’ He got out his mobile and keyed in the number. ‘Hello. Can I speak to Kristina, please?’ He waited for a moment. ‘Hi, Kristina, it’s DI Rick Saville. I picked up the security tape this morning…Great…Listen, we need the one from the next day, too. You’ve got it there still?…Lovely. We’ll be there shortly.’

It was strange to walk into a scene they’d been observing as a recording for the past four hours. Kristina was there, the usual smile on her face.

‘Hi, there,’ said Rick. ‘Thanks so much.’

‘That is OK,’ she answered, blushing slightly. ‘Are you, how did you say, seizing it?’

Jon and Rick glanced at each other.

‘Tell you what,’ said Jon. ‘Why don’t we just whiz through it in your back office first? We’re only interested in the first hour.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. Please.’ She lifted the counter flap and showed them through. After loading the cassette, she pressed Play and stood aside. Static swarmed the screen, before stuttering frames began cutting in. Then the picture took hold properly. The foyer was busy. Too busy for six in the morning.

Jon pointed to the time frame. ‘Six fifty-eight a.m. Where’s the first hour?’

Kristina looked crestfallen. ‘The night porter must have forgotten to change the tapes over. I’m very sorry.’

Outside the hotel he kicked the base of the wall. ‘Fucking typical.’

‘So that’s it, then. Until something else happens, the trail goes cold.’ Rick said angrily.

‘There’s always the CCTV footage from Piccadilly station,’ Jon said reluctantly. ‘If we pick them up there we may even be able to work out which train they caught.’

‘Of course!’ Rick replied.

‘Don’t look so pleased. My other half got her bag snatched in the station last summer. I’ve seen the number of monitors in the CCTV control room. Since they redid the station for the Commonwealth Games, you can’t pick your nose in that place without it being on film.’

‘Surely that’s good?’

‘Not when you’re the mug who’s going to be trawling through all the tapes. There must be twenty cameras in the main part of the station. More on each platform.’

Rick sighed. ‘When are we interested in? The car was parked at seven oh five a.m., so let’s say for the next hour.’

‘Call it thirty-five monitors.’

‘Thirty-five hours of footage. Surely it would be best to divide that out across anyone who’s not on Outside Enquiries?’

‘A job that dreary? I’ll go another ten quid McCloughlin will give the lot to me — and that means you, too.’

Rick grimaced. ‘No, I think I’ll pass on that one. If we watch seven hours a day, that’s five days in the video room.’

Jon groaned, thinking about the spartan furnishings and smell of old ashtrays. ‘Have you got a video in your flat?’

‘No, just DVD.’

‘We’ve got one at home. We’ll go through it all there.’ Rick nodded, ‘So what now?’

Jon looked at his watch. ‘We’d better check back in with McCloughlin. But I intend to make the most of the quiet spell.’