Текст книги "Evil Games"

Автор книги: Angela Marsons

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ELEVEN

Kim seated herself at the spare detective’s desk. ‘Hope you all got a bit of sleep, because there won’t be any more until we make some headway on this case.’

Personally, she’d had very little herself. She had eventually drifted off, only to be woken two hours later after dreaming of little Daisy Dunn. She had often fallen asleep thinking about a case, and even more often a suspect had been the first thing she’d thought of in a morning. But the vision of Daisy had unsettled her; she’d watched her being led away, but Daisy was pulling back, refusing to go, staring back at her.

Kim shook the vision away. The case was over and it was on with the next. She had done her part and now she just had to hope it made it to court, despite the stupidity of Jenks and Whiley.

She tuned back just in time to catch a grumble from the other side of the room. It originated from Dawson’s corner.

Her eyes challenged him. He looked away.

Kim didn’t operate to a rota and their rostered working hours were viewed in an advisory capacity only. If a witness needed to be interviewed she didn’t care if it was five minutes before the end of shift. The job got done.

‘Anybody who expects dead bodies to turn up at their convenience should download a transfer form immediately. Anyone?’

Not even Bryant responded. He had a gift for knowing when not to open his mouth.

‘Okay, refresh; our victim is Allan Harris, a forty-five-year-old male who did time for rape. Got out about eighteen months ago and appears to have been clean ever since. He lives on benefits with his elderly mother and hasn’t worked a day since his release.’

‘It was a brutal rape, Guv,’ Bryant offered.

‘I know that.’ She’d read the reports and didn’t need a history lesson. The horrific injuries sustained by his victim had sickened her. Would she shed tears for his loss as a human being? No chance. Would she allow her personal feelings to affect the way she handled the case? Same response. ‘Look folks, he served his time, minimal as it was, and hasn’t blipped on the radar since. Allan Harris isn’t Gandhi and we don’t get to pick our victim. Got it?’

‘Yes, Guv.’

‘Dawson, go talk to taxi drivers, bus drivers, dog walkers and the owner of the pub. See if there was anyone who was particularly vocal about their dislike for Harris. And take Stacey with you, she could do with some air.’

Stacey was truly gifted in I.T. and had always supported the team from behind a computer screen. It was time to expose her to a little more of the outside world. The fact that Stacey looked just a little bit anxious proved to Kim she was making the right call.

Wood and Dawson rose and headed towards the door.

Dawson hung back. ‘Umm … Guv, just wanted to apologise for my crack about sleep.’

‘If I thought you meant it you’d already be on your way home.’

He nodded his understanding and headed out. Dawson was a good detective, but Kim expected more than good. She pushed them hard, believing it made them better officers. Police work didn’t come with a clock card, and any of her team who wanted nothing more than a job could piss off to McDonalds and flip burgers all day.

Bryant waited until they were out of earshot. ‘Don’t we make a good team? Your cool intelligence, my warm demeanour. Your dispassionate analysis, my ability to play nice. Your brains, my beauty.’

Kim grunted. ‘Come on, gorgeous, our press awaits.’

Kim hadn’t called a press conference. She hadn’t needed to. They’d been arriving since four in the morning.

She took a deep breath and nodded before pushing open the double doors.

Reporters and photographers stood in huddles. She recognised a few of the locals from the Express and Star and the free papers. A Central News reporter and a BBC Midlands Today cameraman were sharing something on their mobile phones. A Sky News correspondent was busy texting.

‘Okay, gather round,’ Kim shouted. A bouquet of microphones appeared before her face and tape recorders were activated and thrust forward. God, she hated this.

She nodded at the expectant faces. ‘I’ll just hand you over to DS Bryant who will give you the details so far.’

Kim stood to the side. If Bryant was bewildered by her sudden deference he hid it well and immediately offered his sympathies to the family.

Yeah, bet Woody’s stress ball’s seeing some action now, Kim thought.

‘… Midlands Police Force will do everything within its power to bring this perpetrator to justice. Thank you for your time.’

Kim headed towards the car and Bryant followed.

‘Thanks for that, Guv,’ he grumbled, throwing a Classic Bike magazine onto the back seat.

‘Handled like a true professional, Bryant.’

‘You know Woody is gonna kill you for …’

‘Got the address?’

‘Back to the island at the bottom of Thorns Road but take a left onto Caledonia.’

‘Thanks, TomTom.’

‘Just for info, Guv. I know you didn’t bother going home last night.’

Kim said nothing.

‘About the only thing that does live in your office is a change of clothes and some toiletries.’

‘Gold star, Sherlock.’

‘Added to the fact that your mileage is the same as when we parked up last night.’

‘What the hell are you, a walking tachograph?’

‘No, I’m a detective. I notice things.’

‘Well, focus your efforts on this case and leave me the hell alone.’

He was right, of course, which narked her all the more.

‘I think you need a reason to go home at night.’

‘Bryant …’ she warned. It was true that he could push her further than anyone else could. But not that far.

She continued the drive in silence, right up until a laboured sigh escaped from her partner’s lips.

‘What is it, Bryant?’

He sighed. ‘I’m not sure how we’re gonna convey any sincere sympathy to Harris’s mother when we get there.’

Kim frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’

Bryant continued to stare out of the window. ‘Well, isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not to me.’

‘With what he did to that girl …’

Bryant stopped speaking as she hit the brakes and turned left onto a pub car park.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Okay, get it out now.’

He looked away. ‘I didn’t say anything in front of the others but my daughter is a similar age as that girl was when he raped her.’

‘I get that but we don’t have the luxury of investigating murders of the righteous alone.’

He looked at her. ‘But how can we offer the same level of passion for that piece of shit?’

Kim did not like the direction of this conversation. ‘Because it’s your job, Bryant. You did not sign any agreement stating that you would only protect the rights of the people you feel are worthy. It’s the law itself we uphold and that law applies to everyone.’

His eyes searched hers. ‘But can you really, knowing what you know, commit yourself without prejudice?’

She didn’t flinch. ‘Yes, I can. And I fully expect the same from you.’

He bit the skin on one of his knuckles.

The air was charged between them. There were few times she’d had to pull Bryant into line and it wasn’t an easy thing for her to do. But their friendship could stand it. She hoped.

She stared ahead, her voice low. ‘Bryant, I expect nothing less than total professionalism when we go into that house. If you can’t give me that then I would suggest you remain in the car.’

She knew that was harsh but she would not tolerate any display of his personal feelings about the victim.

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course.’

The fact that she would take the necessary action if he defied her instruction was known to both of them. Friendship or not.

She put the car into gear and pulled away.

Sensibly he remained silent until they reached the island at the bottom of Thorns Road. On both sides were family dwellings that she guessed to be two bedrooms, each with a driveway just long enough to hold a family-sized car.

Bryant told her to stop in front of number twenty-three.

The house sat approximately fifty feet from the end of the alley where Harris was murdered.

Bryant slammed the car door. ‘Jesus, another fifteen seconds and he’d have been home.’

The front garden was in the process of being slabbed. Mounds of grass had been crudely dug out, leaving a tufty, pock-marked surface. A box porch jutted from the front of the property, which was straight if Kim tilted her head slightly to the left. Every window was suffocated by net curtains and a small glass pane upstairs had a crack in the lower left-hand corner.

Bryant used his knuckle to rap three short taps to the door. It was opened by a female family liaison officer dressed in sweatshirt and jeans.

‘She’s quite frail, hasn’t stopped crying yet.’

Kim squeezed past her and entered the lounge. Stairs led out of the room to the upper level. Brown and orange swirls covered every surface except the beige velour corner suite that dominated the room.

The dog that had sat beside the body sauntered towards her wagging its tail. His collar of white fur still held dried brown spatters of his owner’s blood.

She ignored the animal and continued to the rear of the small house. She found the elderly female sitting in a comfortable rocker in the dining kitchen that stretched the width of the small house.

Kim introduced herself as Bryant materialised beside her. He took the lady’s hand.

‘Mrs Harris, my name is DS Bryant and firstly I’d like to offer our condolences for your loss.’ He held onto the gnarled bones for a few seconds then placed the hand gently back in her lap.

Kim offered him a slight nod as they sat on the two wicker chairs. His professionalism hid the feelings he’d revealed to her in the car. She could ask no more of him.

The liaison officer made tea and the dog placed itself next to Kim, leaning against her right leg. She moved her leg away and focused her attention on Mrs Harris. Her hair was completely grey and tufty in places. Kim was reminded of the front garden.

Mrs Harris’s face was pleasant but marred by the ravages of hard work and anguish. Her whole body was so consumed by arthritis it appeared that each bone had been fractured and reset incorrectly. Her right hand picked at the tissue in her left hand, producing hundreds of tiny white flakes that had formed a puddle in her lap.

The old lady fixed red-rimmed eyes on Bryant. When she spoke, her words were thick with a Black Country accent. ‘He wor a bad lad, Detective Inspector. Prison ’elped him.’

Kim nudged the dog away. ‘Mrs Harris, we’re more interested in what happened to your son than his past.’

Mrs Harris fixed Kim with a stare. Her eyes were raw but dry. ‘What he did was ’orrible and disgustin’ and I’ll never get the back on it. He pled guilty to all the charges and never tried any fancy defence with big words. He took the punishment o’ the court whether yo’ agree with it or not. He came out a changed man, real sorry for wor he’d done to that poor girl. If he could have took it back he woulda done.’ Her eyes filled and she shook her head. The impassioned defence of her son was over, leaving the cold reality that he was still dead.

She continued but her voice was shaky. ‘My lad wor never gonna be able to work again; his sentence was for life.’

Kim kept her face neutral and spoke honestly. ‘Mrs Harris, we fully intend to investigate the murder of your son. His history has no bearing on how we do that.’

Mrs Harris met her gaze and held it for a few seconds. ‘I believe yer.’

Bryant took over. ‘Can you tell us exactly what happened last night?’

The woman dabbed at her cheeks with the decimated tissue. ‘He ’elped me to bed about ten o’clock. He switched on the radio. I goo to sleep to the late night talking programmes. He whistled for Barney and then took him out. They always went for a long walk at night. Barney don’t like other dogs much.

‘Sometimes he’d stop at The Thorns and ’ave ’alf a pint before gooin over to the park. He just sat outside on his own with Barney. He’d buy a bag of scratchings and share ’em with the dog.’

‘What time did he normally get back?’

‘Usually ’alf eleven. I could never ger off to sleep properly ’til he was back in the house. Oh my, my, my, I cor believe he’s gone. Who’d do this?’ she asked Bryant.

‘I’m afraid we don’t know yet. Was he having any problems with anyone you know of?’

‘The neighbours wunt talk to either of us once I ler ’im move back in. I think folks shouted stuff to ’im if he went out in the day. One night he come back with a black eye but he wunt talk about it. There were a couple of nasty letters and some threatening phone calls and a couple of months ago we ’ad a brick thrown at the window.’

Kim felt sorry for the old woman left behind. Despite what her son had done, his mother had taken him in and tried to protect him.

‘Did you keep the letters or get the phone numbers?’

Mrs Harris shook her head. ‘No, chick, Allan threw ’em away and we changed our phone number.’

‘Did you call the police when the brick got thrown?’

‘You pair might be tekkin his murder serious but I doe think a brick through the window of a convicted rapist woulda brought much of a response.’

Kim didn’t answer; she knew Mrs Harris was probably correct.

There were no clues to be found in the threats and abuse he’d suffered, so Kim moved on.

‘Did he always take his wallet with him, you know, to pop into the pub?’

‘No, he never went to the pub on Friday or Saturday; too many folks. His wallet is on the table in the other room.’

‘Did he ever carry a knife, say for his own protection?’ Bryant asked.

Mrs Harris frowned. ‘He dint tell me if he did.’

They were prevented from asking any further questions by a knock at the door. The constable who had been observing went to answer it. Kim idly wondered how the frail woman was going to manage once this resource was removed. Eventually the case would be solved and the liaison officer would be reassigned.

‘That’ll be the Blue Cross,’ Mrs Harris said sadly.

As she spoke the words, the dog again rested against Kim’s leg. She did nothing as she realised that short of a good kick the bloody thing wasn’t going anywhere.

‘Blue Cross?’ Bryant asked.

‘The rescue centre that Barney come from. They’ve come to tek him back. I cor look after him. It ay fair.’

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. ‘My lad loved that dog, liked to think he’d given him a second chance.’

A male and female both bearing the logo of the rescue centre entered the room.

‘His dog lead is hanging over there. His bed is in the lounge and tek that brown teddy bear. It’s his best toy.’

The dog’s body trembled as it backed up against Kim’s legs. A feeling of sadness washed over her. The dog hadn’t judged his master on past crimes; he’d been a loyal, faithful friend and now his life here was over.

The male gathered the dog’s belongings as the woman retrieved the lead.

Mrs Harris leaned forward and patted the dog one last time. ‘I’m sorry, Barney, but I cor look after yer, mate.’

The woman attached the lead and began walking the dog out of the house. He turned at the front door, fixing Kim with a sorrowful, questioning stare.

She watched as the dog was led away from everything he knew. He was being returned to the display shelf, back on parade for another chance at a good home. A feeling she knew all too well.

Kim stood, abruptly. ‘Come on, Bryant, I think we have all we need.’

TWELVE

Alex headed towards Cradley Heath, impressed with her ability to adapt. In her field of research there were bound to be disappointments along the way. Shane had let her down but she’d turned that little situation to her own advantage without any detection.

There were always casualties of research but as yet Alex had not encountered any collateral damage that was not worth the end result. Disappointments were an occupational hazard but she was nothing if not resourceful.

Like now. After the events of the previous night it would only be right to pop back to Hardwick House to make sure everyone was okay, and if Barry happened to be around, then it could be a very good day after all.

She needed the distraction from thinking about Ruth. She had to accept that she would not get any data until their next scheduled appointment. The story was all over the news but the police would never put it together in that time, especially if Ruth had listened to her properly and removed the knife.

The day was bright but breezy. The trees moved as the last traces of winter were blown away.

As she drove through Cradley Heath she stopped at the Tesco superstore and picked up a selection of cheap cakes and pastries. It didn’t cost a lot, but again perception was everything.

She pulled onto the drive of Hardwick House and noticed a couple of extra cars. The weekend brought visitors to the occupants.

‘Refreshments,’ she said, entering the kitchen. David turned and Alex could see he was on the phone but not speaking. He ended the call and shook his head.

‘Everything okay?’

‘What are you doing back here so soon?’

‘Oh well, I’ll just take my goodies and go, shall I?’ she asked coyly.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘I just wanted to check that Malcolm and Shane were both okay.’ Sometimes, she surprised herself with how convincing she could be. She couldn’t have cared less about the two losers, but Barry was a different story entirely.

‘Malcolm looks like he went ten rounds with Tyson and then got run over by an ice road trucker, but he’s fine in himself. Feels like the bigger man for not contacting the police. His sister is in The Den with him. She’s given me an earful for allowing this to happen but she’s mildly appeased by the fact that Shane’s not here anymore.’

‘Already?’ Alex was surprised but also pleased.

David held his arms open. ‘He left during the night. I went to wake him early to talk to him and his room had been cleared. I’ve left him a couple of messages but he’s now switched off his phone.’

‘Oh David, I’m so sorry. I know how much you liked him.’

‘Poor kid’s got no one. Never had a break in his life. I really thought we could help him.’

‘He’s a grown man. He has to make his own decisions. It’s possible that he just couldn’t face Malcolm and thought this was the best way. At least you don’t have to ask him to leave.’

‘Hello Dougie,’ she said, without turning. ‘Don’t you ever get bored of following me around?’

He shook his head and shuffled from one foot to the other. She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again. There wasn’t even any sport in being mean to Dougie. She liked her adversaries to have possession of at least one brain cell.

Alex took the plates through to The Den.

Ray, the oldest resident, was sitting on one of the sofas enduring another uncomfortable silence that frequently occurred between him and a daughter that he barely knew.

Ray was the epitome of what Jeremy Hardwick had in mind when opening the House. When Ray left the free world in 1986, a computer hard drive had filled an entire room. A mobile phone came with a battery the size of a suitcase and the founder of Facebook was two years old.

She approached the two of them with a plate. She wished she didn’t have to waste her time with such trivialities but appearances were important. They both took a cake and thanked her, eager for the distraction.

Malcolm sat in the far corner, looking sheepish and intimidated by his austere younger sister. Malcolm would have made a domineering woman a very good husband. He accepted his place well. Alex offered him a secret smile and then lowered her eyes.

She started to look around the room when a voice sounded behind her.

‘Err … excuse me, you’re the doctor, aren’t you?’

Alex was surprised to find Malcolm’s officious sister glaring up at her. She was an unfortunate-looking woman with buck teeth and small squinty eyes.

‘My name is Alexandra Thorne and I …’

‘So, you’re the woman who talked my brother out of calling the police?’

The hands were resting on the hips and the pock-marked jaw had thrust forward. Alex stopped herself from laughing. The height difference between them made Alex want to reach down and pat the woman on the head. If only she didn’t have to waste her time with such inconsequential people.

‘Would you like to explain to me why you would do such a thing?’

‘I don’t feel I need to explain anything to …’

‘Just look at the state of him.’ She gestured towards Malcolm, who looked mortified and yet remained seated.

‘How could you let that bastard do this to him and get away with it?’

‘It was Malcolm’s decision not to call the police.’

The woman harrumphed in a manner way beyond her years. ‘Yeah, I’ll bet it was.’ She looked Alex up and down. ‘You with your Vicky Beckham jeans and high heels; he’d sacrifice his own nieces if you asked him to.’

On cue, two girls zoomed past, catching Alex’s left thigh and she briefly considered putting that theory to the test.

People were beginning to look their way. And Alex’s boredom threshold had been reached.

Alex lowered her voice. ‘I did not persuade your brother to do anything. He is a fully grown man with a mind of his own.’

‘Aha, thought so. I know your game.’

Alex seriously doubted that but she smiled tolerantly anyway. ‘And, what would that be?’

‘You’re after him. That’s what this is about.’

Oh yes, of course that was it, Alex thought, almost laughing in the woman’s face.

‘You’re trying to get him all dependent on you so you can trap him into marriage.’ A drop of spittle from the woman’s mouth landed on her cheek. A step too far.

She gently guided the woman into a corner and placed a smile on her face for the benefit of onlookers. She spoke quietly.

‘Okay, you stupid, ignorant bitch, I encouraged Malcolm to leave the police out of it and you should be fucking grateful that I did. Shane was making all kinds of accusations about Malcolm molesting your two little demons over there.

‘Any attending officer would have been obliged to investigate such claims, which would have resulted in painful, humiliating physical examinations for your little darlings – not to mention the distinct possibility of them being removed from your care.’

Alex was gratified that the woman’s mouth had dropped open far enough to dry any remaining droplets of spittle.

Alex continued to smile. ‘So, I suggest you keep your vicious little mouth shut and continue visiting with your brother and stay away from what doesn’t concern you.’

A very slight nod was the response.

Alex turned away and took a deep breath. Now, back to the real reason for her visit.