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The sight of Allen stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Hello, Vincent.”
Chapter Fifty-eight
An air of excitement prevailed as the team marched into the incident room, despite the time pushing six o’clock in the evening.
The only officer Gardener could not see was Colin Sharp, but he’d be out somewhere, digging up further information that no one else had probably thought about.
Briggs, last in, closed the door behind him.
Gardener was pleased about what he, Reilly and Rawson had found, although it had to be kept under wraps for the time being. He had discussed everything he’d found inside Rydell’s place with the two of them; each one agreed that from the evidence already accumulated, it was doubtful that Briggs would oppose a warrant for Rydell’s arrest, or a search of the premises.
“Thanks for coming, lads. We have had significant developments over the course of the day, and I’m pleased to say I’m very confident that we have identified a suspect in connection with the murders of Nicola Stapleton, Barry Morrison, Alan Sargent, and Frank Fisher.”
The buzz of hushed conversations circled the room.
“Anything on the missing girl?” asked Rawson.
“I wish I could say yes, but I have no proof that the suspect has her. The sooner we have him in custody, the sooner we can start interrogating him.”
“Press on then, Stewart,” said Briggs, glancing at his watch.
“Sean and I followed a lead on the clinic in Bond Street today, concerning the name Rydell, which had popped up more than once in the investigation.
“Patrick Edwards discovered evidence on the CCTV cameras of a motorbike with a weird shaped trailer in the vicinity of Kirkstall Abbey, between the hours of two and four o’clock on Monday morning. Seems it was the same trailer that the eyewitness had seen with a wheelchair, and possibly a foot, sticking out the bottom. Chris Rydell owns the bike.
“Rydell is also a patient of the clinic in Bond Street. His first visit was six months ago, where he was complaining to his GP of flu-like symptoms that wouldn’t shift. He was referred to Bond Street, and was diagnosed as having hepatitis B, which has now developed into full-blown cirrhosis.”
Gardener pointed to Nicola Stapleton’s name and photograph on the ANACAPA chart. “The first connection starts here. She was employed by a group of his friends to show him a good time one night after he’d got drunk. According to her diary, he wasn’t so drunk that she could earn her money without doing anything. Nicola Stapleton gave Chris Rydell hepatitis B.”
“Is that the only connection?” Briggs asked.
“To her, yes.”
Gardener continued unperturbed, pointing to Barry Morrison’s name.
“Two years ago, Barry Morrison forced Chris Rydell off the road in Horsforth. It wasn’t a serious incident and no one was hurt, but Rydell had a witness who confirmed the number plate. It was followed up and the car belonged to the taxi firm that the Morrisons run.”
“Was Barry Morrison driving?” asked Frank Thornton.
“We reckon he was,” said Reilly, “but his star witness, Sally Summerby, swore blind in court that she was in a taxi that night with Morrison, but they were miles away in Shipley.”
“So which poor bastard copped for points on his licence?” asked Anderson.
“No one. They blamed it on a driver who was no longer with the company when it was investigated. He’d emigrated to New Zealand.”
“So Morrison got off with it?”
“Yes.”
“Why did Sally Summerby lie to the court and the police?” Briggs asked.
“Because Barry Morrison is Chloe’s natural father.”
Gardener realized it was news to his team.
“How the hell did that happen?”
