IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery Ray Clark (lightest ebook reader TXT) 📖

Julie Longstaff glanced around. “Is there any CCTV in the village?”

“Not that we know of,” said Reilly, “but while you were on your way we took the trouble to find out that there are a couple close to the area.”

“Once we get that information we can pull the CCTV from every building in a set radius,” said Gardener. “The parameters will have to be set by the density of the population. Burley is a remote village, so we’ll have to go large, maybe a mile or so.”

“And there’s always ANPR cameras,” said Benson. “They’re almost everywhere now; installed in police cars, both marked and unmarked, so every time a car drives past one of us we get the number plate recorded with a photo of the occupants.”

Gardener nodded. “Which would be great if we actually had a number plate. Nevertheless, I’ll be tasking an action team to go through all ANPR cameras both before and after – especially after – looking for accident damage, and any vehicle that has a report attached to it: reported stolen, no keeper details known, involved in crime, etc. We’ll be looking at cars registered from outside the area and after that, any other cars.”

Gardener knew it had to be treated as a full-on murder crime scene. With more officers, a path, action teams, CCTV recovery teams, house-to-house teams, and search teams. He knew it would be expensive.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” asked Rawson.

“Split into teams of two and start questioning everyone. I know it’s early and no one appreciates the job we have to do but an immediate house-to-house is vital, in case there are people visiting who don’t live here. Two of you have a look at the point of impact with the wall – a paint sample would be great. Then we can contact car manufacturers. With a bit of luck we’ll find something that might make this mountain worth climbing.”

Chapter Five

The incident room had been set up late the previous day but it was Tuesday morning before the team were given the chance to convene to share information. Little had filtered in on the Monday as everyone had been out collecting it, including the SOCOs, the fingertip search team and the CIU – though Gardener realised it could be a short while before they came up with anything.

Gardener stood in front of three whiteboards. Reilly sat on a desk to his left. The rest of the team were dotted around with drinks and notebooks at the ready.

“Okay,” said Gardener, “we know who the victims are but have any of you managed to find out anything about their lives: do they have family? Where do they live and work?”

Dave Rawson took the lead. “The neighbours speak pretty well of the Hunters; I say neighbours but the house they lived in is detached and set back from the main road.”

“Yes,” added Colin Sharp. “It’s called Highway Cottage but they don’t strictly have any neighbours, although their garden joins up with another. A Mrs Sheila Poskitt lives in the bungalow there. She reckoned they were friendly but quiet, a couple who kept to themselves. They were always there if you needed them but very rarely interfered with you.”

“Sounds like the perfect couple,” said Reilly, “but someone wanted them dead.”

“What was the house like?” Gardener asked.

“Large,” said Rawson, “with a double garage but only one car inside.”

“Any idea what they did for a living?”

Sarah Gates jumped in. “One or two people indicated that David Hunter worked for a bank in Leeds.”

“Does anyone know which one?”

“No,” said Longstaff, “but judging by the place they lived in it didn’t look like they had any money problems.”

“Okay,” said Gardener, “in that case, can you ladies have a look around the house, see if you can find any personal documents that will give us a lead? I’d particularly like any computers that you find, and also a phone for David Hunter.”

The girls nodded.

“We had a phone for Ann Marie, didn’t we?” asked Paul Benson. “Did that reveal anything?”

“No,” said Gardener. “All we found were a number of texts from what we take to be friends. So perhaps you and Patrick can go through it and identify everyone who has called or sent a text, and follow up on anything that’s amiss?”

Patrick Edwards nodded, taking notes.

Gardener took a sip of water. “The big question here is, does anyone have anything on the collision, or possible accident?”

“We’ve drawn a blank on that, sir,” said Julie Longstaff. Gardener had transferred Longstaff from the station in Bramfield because she had a very valuable knowledge of computers. She was around six feet in height with shoulder length blonde hair and brown eyes. At twenty-five, Longstaff was single, dedicated and would, in his opinion, work well with Sarah Gates; both were an asset to the team as Bob Anderson and Frank Thornton were both on compassionate leave.

“We picked up something,” said Colin Sharp, meaning he and Dave Rawson.

Rawson took over. “We found a couple who came out of The Malt public house sometime around eleven thirty. They reckoned they saw a stationary vehicle nestled between two overhanging elms in the park, off the Main Street. It was opposite a row of two-storey cottages, in the vicinity of the church of St. Mary’s.”

“Interesting,” said Gardener.

“Don’t suppose they got the number plate?” Reilly asked.

“No,” replied Sharp. “They didn’t really hang around, and they live in the opposite direction.”

“But they mentioned that the engine was running and four people were inside,” said Rawson. “They saw that as they left the pub and drew a little closer to the vehicle.”

“Four people?” questioned Reilly.

“Yes,” said Sharp, “with the engine running.”

“Which suggests they were waiting there for a reason,” said Gardener.

“Did you get any more info?” Reilly