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“That’s true, Sean,” said Gardener, “but there’s always someone who can’t sleep. They get out of bed, head for the toilet and then stand for a few minutes staring out of the window. Surely there must be one witness to all of this carnage. It’s not as if a 4x4 hitting a wall at some speed doesn’t cause a noise.”
“You’d think not, boss, but we’ve had appeals out in newspapers and on TV and still no one’s come forward.”
Gardener sighed. “Okay, for want of nothing better to do, let’s try again. House-to-house calls just in case someone remembers something. And let’s check every single house within a short radius of the crash site again for CCTV, although you’d have thought we’d have heard something by now if they have.”
“What about the people who live at the house with the damaged wall?” Reilly asked. “Do we have a statement from them?”
“No,” said Rawson. “Neighbour told us they’re in the south of France. They have a holiday place there. It’s warmer.”
“Okay for some,” said Reilly.
“But we’ve left word for them to contact us,” said Sharp.
Another note on the whiteboard before Gardener turned to Benson and Edwards. “So, what about the car in question? Are you lads any further on in your quest?”
“We’ve compiled a list of all the dealers in the Yorkshire area: north, south, east and west,” said Benson. “We’ve contacted about half of them and asked for a list of all white Overfinches sold in the last three years. Problem is, at the moment we don’t even know how old this thing is. But once we have that list we can start contacting people and hope we strike it lucky.”
“If that doesn’t produce anything,” said Gardener, “get on to the company and ask for a list of every white Overfinch sold in the UK in the last five years. In fact, do it anyway, let’s cover all bases. I don’t suppose we’ve had one reported stolen?”
“Not yet,” replied Edwards.
“Nothing from the breakers, garages or repair shops?” asked Reilly.
“There’s plenty of them in the area; we haven’t managed to speak to anywhere near all of them, but so far, nothing,” Edwards replied.
Benson added, “The Overfinch is a bit of a specialist vehicle so the breakers don’t really see them.”
“Have we managed to go through the traffic cameras within a ten-mile radius of Burley?” asked Gardener. “Just in case this thing was picked up on camera somewhere. A large white Overfinch with a smashed-up front end would stick out.”
“We contacted traffic,” said Benson, “and asked them if they would go through what they have. They said they’d get back to us if they find anything.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath with that one,” said Reilly. “You know what traffic are like.”
“A law unto themselves,” added Gardener. “Perhaps you should have a word with them, Sean.”
“Christ!” said Rawson, “they’ll never speak to us again if you let him loose.”
“Once is all we need,” replied Gardener, updating the board again, before turning and concluding the meeting. “Okay, plenty to keep us going. I know it looks hopeless but keep pressing on. Old-fashioned legwork will be the key to success with this one. I think we should also pay the bank another visit. I don’t know when cyber last spoke to them but there may have been a development since.”
He added that to the board. “Okay everyone, grab yourselves some sleep and let’s start all over again in the morning.”
Chapter Eleven
In his entire career, Gardener could not remember a case so lacking in information. Ten days in and still they had little or nothing to go on.
Another phone call from the Bradford Two, requesting Gardener and Reilly’s assistance at the cyber unit changed all that.
An hour later they were sitting in a hi-tech office in the Bradford police station, manned by a CIU officer called Neil Farrah. He was bulky and slovenly, dressed casually in a pair of dark coloured chinos, white shirt and a black sports jacket – no tie. His hair was dark and wild and he had a week’s worth of growth on his chin. Farrah’s skin texture suggested he never saw daylight, which was backed up by the fact that the rumour mill at Bradford reckoned no one saw him arrive or leave, leaving them to assume he lived in the office.
“Do you know anything about 3D mapping?” Farrah asked Gardener.
“Not a lot,” replied Gardener, taking a seat. “We’ve never had to use it.”
Farrah asked them both to move their chairs so they could see the screen. Without even asking he brought them both a drink, one of which was bottled water for Gardener. Despite appearances, Gardener liked him.
“Clever stuff, this,” said Farrah, taking his seat, with a hi-energy drink. “We stood a camera in the centre of the scene, letting it slowly rotate on the stand. It continuously takes photos of every inch of the scene but it doesn’t do it in the style of a film.
“We then moved the tripod to all four corners of that scene and did the same again. The program mashes all the pictures together and builds up a full 3D image. It’s accurate to within millimetres of objects and street furniture, such as phone boxes, etc.”
