for a William Edward Thorpe in Ashbourne a couple of months ago, but his address was given as “no fixed abode”.’
‘We need to find him. Quinn has a motive for looking him up.’
‘So much work,’ said Hitchens.
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DCI Kessen waved away the comment.
‘Sudbury’s an open prison, right?’ said Murfin.
‘Yes.’
‘Didn’t we have one who escaped from there recently?’
‘If you can call it escaping. He was on an unsupervised work party on the prison farm, and never went back to his cell at the end of the day.’
‘I don’t know why they bother doing it. I mean, those open prisons are a cushy number. And he’ll only get sent back to somewhere worse when he’s caught.’
‘If he’s caught.’
‘Come on, sir. When did we not catch someone who’d walked out of Sudbury? These blokes always go straight home. The poor sods don’t know what else to do.’
Cooper put his hand up. ‘Gavin has a point, sir. Mansell Quinn didn’t escape, but his thinking could be the same. He might just have been going home.’
‘Damn right. He turned up at his wife’s house and killed her.’
Cooper shook his head. ‘That wasn’t his home. He never lived there.’
‘No, you’re right. His previous address was in Castleton. But somebody else lives there now. Complete strangers, I assume. Check on it, would you, Murfin.’
‘Quinn’s mother lives in Hathersage,’ said Cooper. That will be the place he thinks of as home.’
‘We’ve talked to her, haven’t we? DS Fry?’
‘Yes, sir. But I don’t think she was being entirely open with us.’
‘Put a bit of pressure on, then. Get some officers into the area to talk to all the neighbours. See if we can get a sighting of Quinn. OK, Paul?’
Hitchens had no choice but to nod.
‘Somebody look into public transport,’ said Kessen. ‘Is there a railway station near Sudbury?’
‘We’ll check, sir.’
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‘He might have hired a car,’ said someone. ‘Or stolen one.’
‘We should look into it,’ said Hitchens. ‘Right.’
‘If Quinn does have a car,’ pointed out Kessen, ‘it’s going to make it much less difficult for us. A known vehicle will be easier to locate than an individual who may or may not be on foot, and who has the whole of the Peak District to wander around in.’
‘We hope for the easy option, then,’ said Hitchens.
‘Obviously. So we want sightings of vehicles in Aston, near the victim’s home.’
‘And appeals, sir?’
‘The press office are already on to that. They’re fixing up a press conference later this afternoon. We aim to get Quinn’s photograph on the local TV news tonight. We need as many members of the public looking out for him as possible.’
‘I got chatting with some of Mrs Lowe’s neighbours at Aston this morning,’ said Murfin. ‘They said they were just passing, but of course they’d come for a nosy around to see what was going on.’
‘The next-door neighbours?’
‘No, further up the village. They didn’t see anything last night, but they volunteered Mansell Quinn’s name themselves. They’d heard he was due out.’
‘Where did they hear that from?’
‘They seemed to think it was something everybody knew.’
‘The Carol Proctor killing is a case everyone in that area will remember,’ said Hitchens. ‘At least, everyone who was living around there in 1990. But we have to reach the others as well - the newcomers, and all those thousands of visitors, too.’
‘If necessary, we’ll spend some money on distributing posters. Anything else, Paul?’
‘I think that’s it for now, sir.’
But Cooper raised a hand. ‘Sir, if Quinn is looking for revenge for some perceived injustice at his trial, I wonder if
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he might also go after the professionals involved. For example, the judge, the lawyers ‘
‘- or the police officers,’ said Kessen. ‘Yes. Specifically, the officers who worked on the Carol Proctor case and put the evidence together that got him sent down.’
The DCI looked at Hitchens. ‘You’d better add looking up the investigating officers to your list of tasks, Paul,1 he said.
Hitchens looked more uncomfortable than ever. ‘No, sir.’
