Chapter 10
1135 Words
10
PC Adam Norman of Dumfries and Galloway Police cursed the town centre traffic as he sat at yet another red light, still a good few minutes away from the address in Summerhill he’d been given. He’d been thinking for a while about jacking the job in, but there were some aspects of it which appealed to him. One of them was sitting next to him in the passenger seat.
His colleague, PC Chloe Atkinson, was something of a closed book. She tended to keep her thoughts and opinions to herself, which made it a lot harder for Adam to know where he stood.
They’d been out for drinks a couple of times, Adam having wanted to ask her out on a proper date but instead settling for the easy option of suggesting a couple of after-work drinks at a pub in Maxwelltown. They’d been great evenings, but he’d come away from them realising that he knew even less about Chloe than he had before. She’d been keen to find out all about Adam — his love of vintage cars, his family and friends. But whenever he’d asked her anything back, he’d only got vague answers before another question was fired his way.
Some people didn’t like talking about themselves. He accepted that. But he just wished he could read a little into Chloe’s mind and gauge whether or not he should take the plunge and try and move things on to the next level. He didn’t want to f**k it up, though, by suggesting something a little more romantic and ending up looking like a tit if she rejected him. That’d certainly help make his decision on whether it was worth remaining in the police, though, so it wouldn’t be all bad.
‘Traffic’s always a nightmare here,’ he said.
‘Aye.’
If it was an emergency, he’d be able to flick the siren on, part the traffic and be in Summerhill within seconds, but unfortunately there was no emergency here. They’d just have to wait.
Adam always wondered how much information they were given on cases like this. Was it just the bare bones — enough to help them do their job without giving too much away? All he knew was that he needed to trace the movements and whereabouts of a Peugeot Expert van in the south east of England the day before and in the early hours of that morning. Mildenheath was a good five and a half hours’ drive away from here, so Peter Bellamy would be pretty tired when they came knocking.
It would be usual protocol for officers from England to come up and speak to the suspect, but special dispensation had been given for Dumfries and Galloway to pay Bellamy a visit. The chat should only take a couple of minutes, so the operational costs of sending officers from Mildenheath would have been prohibitive.
When they finally reached the address they’d been given, they parked the car at the end of the driveway, the pair noting that there was a Peugeot Expert van parked up on the gravel, with the same index number as the vehicle they’d been asked to trace.
They walked up to the front door and knocked, waiting for a response. After a minute or so, the door opened and a man in a polo shirt and shorts answered.
‘Hello sir. We’re looking to speak to Peter Bellamy. Is that you?’
‘Aye, that’s me. Something the matter?’
‘Are you the owner of this van, sir?’
‘Aye.’
‘Mind if I step in and ask you a couple of questions, sir?’ Adam asked, the unspoken words being that Chloe would stay outside and call their colleagues in Mildenheath to relay that they’d located the vehicle.
She pulled out her mobile phone and dialled the number on the paperwork, and waited for DCI Jack Culverhouse to answer.
‘It’s PC Chloe Atkinson from Dumfries and Galloway here,’ she said. ‘I’m at the address provided for Mr Peter Bellamy, and can confirm we’ve found the vehicle on his driveway.’
She listened as Culverhouse filled her in on the details they had so far.
‘Hubcap? Let me just… No, they all seem fine. Doesn’t look to me like any of them are new, either. The dirt is pretty consistent across all four.’
She jotted some notes in her notebook as Culverhouse told her what information they were looking for at this stage in time. When the conversation was finished, she went into the house to join PC Norman and Mr Bellamy.
‘Alright?’ she said, mainly to Adam.
‘Aye. Mr Bellamy was just telling me his van hasn’t left the driveway in three days.’
‘No work,’ Bellamy said, as if he felt compelled to give an excuse.
‘What do you do?’ Chloe asked.
‘Painter and decorator. I do a bit of other stuff too, depending on what people need. Sort of general handyman, really.’
Chloe nodded. She’d had enough trouble trying to get tradesmen to even turn up to quote for jobs, so it was remarkable that Bellamy claimed to have no work.
‘Is there anyone who can corroborate that?’
Bellamy exhaled heavily. ‘My wife. She’s been going on at me constantly about finding work. She fuckin’ knows that van hasnae moved, that’s for sure.’
‘A white Peugeot Expert with your registration number was flagged up on multiple ANPR cameras between Middlebrook and Rochester in the early hours of this morning. Can you explain that?’
‘Not wi’out Uri fuckin’ Geller, no.’
‘So you’re saying you weren’t driving it?’
‘No-one was driving it, love. It hasnae moved from that exact spot for days.’
Chloe and Adam exchanged a look. They both knew what the other was thinking. Neither of them was a stranger to the fact that vehicles’ number plates were often cloned, but they couldn’t afford to be too careful.
‘Would you consent to us taking your vehicle away for analysis?’ Adam asked. ‘That way we can pretty quickly eliminate you from our inquiries.’
‘No I bloody would not,’ Bellamy barked. ‘How the hell do you expect me to get work if you’ve got my van?’
Chloe bit her tongue, and allowed Adam to continue.
‘It really would be in your best interests, sir.’
‘Best interests my arse. I’ve seen the TV programmes. If you want to find out where I was, get my mobile network to tell you. You’ll see I’ve been sat here for the past three days watching Jeremy f*****g Kyle on a loop.’
‘With respect, sir, that’ll only tell us where your mobile phone was. It won’t tell us where you were.’
‘Oh aye, I just nipped down to Kent for a wee drive and didnae bother take my phone. What you got going on up here, eh?’ Bellamy said, jabbing his forefinger into the side of his own head.
‘So you’re not willing to let us check your van?’ Adam asked, trying to indicate to Bellamy that this was very much his last chance to co-operate.
Bellamy looked him straight in the eyes, himself keen to get the message across that this conversation was over. ‘N, O. No.’
Adam sighed. ‘In that case, Peter Bellamy, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything other than to identify yourself by way of name, address, date of birth, place of birth and nationality and you have the right to see a solicitor. Do you understand?’
Bellamy looked at him and sneered.
‘Go f**k yourself.’
- Writer
