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“What happened? What set you off on this track?”
“With everything that Morrison was involved in, I checked to see if he had a record. I’ve been at the magistrates’ court all afternoon, going through the files. They were trying to prosecute for dangerous driving, failure to identify a driver, and failure to report or stop after an accident.”
“Tell me more,” said Gardener.
“It happened in December. Weather was cold, bit misty. He’d picked up a passenger from the train station at Horsforth, just after eight in the evening. Pulled out of Station Road without looking, clipped a motorbike that he hadn’t seen coming. The bike and the driver ended up in the middle of the road at the nearby dental surgery. Thing is, he just drove off as if nothing had happened.
“Seems there wasn’t much damage either to Rydell or the bike. There was one witness, a woman named Margaret Pendlebury, lives on Town Street in Horsforth.”
Gardener stopped him. “Where do we know that name from?”
Reilly answered the question. “Isn’t she the secretary at the clinic in Bond Street?”
“You’re right, Sean.” Gardener wrote it on the chart. “I’d like someone to go and see her in the morning. I know it was two years ago, but she may remember something that she’s never told anyone.”
Gardener turned and addressed Sharp. “Carry on, Colin.”
“She saw what happened, ran to his help. She got the number plate of the car. Rydell phoned the police and reported it. Margaret Pendlebury was a key witness.”
“Sounds pretty serious, Colin. Did he manage to get off with it?”
“Yes. Claims he was nowhere near Horsforth that night. It was blamed on a driver who quit the job at the end of the week, because he and his family were emigrating to New Zealand.”
“How convenient,” said Reilly. “But surely this Pendlebury woman must have been a good enough witness to cook his goose.”
“Morrison had a witness to prove he wasn’t there – his passenger.”
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“Why do I get the feeling it was his brother?” Gardener asked.
“You’d be wrong,” replied Sharp. “His passengers were Chloe Summerby, and her mother Sally.”
Reilly glanced at Gardener. “She claimed she didn’t know Barry Morrison.”
Gardener immediately drew a few link lines on the whiteboard to connect the names. “Why would she say that? What hold did Morrison have on her?”
“He couldn’t possibly have had that hold after he’d died,” added Briggs.
“Depends what it was,” said Gardener. “And with all due respect, he has only just died.”
A number of thoughts ran through Gardener’s mind, but he kept them private for now. He turned to his partner. “We’ll talk to her again in the morning.”
“I would if I was you,” said Sharp. “Sally Summerby was in court. She confirmed that she was in one of Morrison’s taxis that night, and it was Barry Morrison driving. But they were miles away in Shipley. If she was lying, she did so under oath.”
“Why? Who was she protecting?”
“Could only be herself or the taxi driver.”
“Or her daughter,” suggested Reilly.
“I can’t see that,” said Gardener. “What could she possibly be protecting her daughter from?”
“I don’t know,” said Reilly. “I’m working on the fact that there were only three of them in the cab. Her, Morrison, and Chloe, so she had to be protecting one of them.”
“You’ve spoken to this Summerby woman, haven’t you, Stewart?” Briggs asked.
“Yes. She said she hadn’t heard of Nicola Stapleton or Barry Morrison.”
