Distracted, Maya observed him out of the corner of her eye as he booted up the computer and removed the memory card from his camera. He prepared two blank DVDs with exhibit labels and proceeded to burn his photographic images onto the discs. The computer wheezed with effort as the process began. The computers were so old and slow that processing images took ages. She was horrified when Andy wheeled his chair over to where she was sat, clearly intent on striking up a conversation.
‘So,’ he slurped noisily at his coffee, ‘how are things?’
‘Erm, good thanks. You?’
‘Yeah, not so bad, not so bad. You okay after all that business with the journalist? Bloody horrible situation to be in. Could have been any one of us, you know. You shouldn’t feel bad.’ He leant forward and patted her forearm awkwardly. Maya had to resist the urge not to shiver with revulsion.
‘Kym spoke to me about it just before, actually. There aren’t going to be any repercussions from top office, thankfully. She’s told me to pretty much forget about it and move on.’
‘Yeah, good advice. Good advice.’ He took another slurp. ‘I bet you’ve got plenty of support at home too.’
‘Hmm,’ she replied non-committally.
‘Who do you live with again?’ he asked.
‘I live on my own.’
‘Moved out of your parents’ then? Do your mum and dad live close?’ Another slurp.
‘My mum is fairly local, yeah.’
Surely her vague answers and the fact she was staring avidly at the computer screen were enough of a hint that she didn’t want to talk to him?
‘Right. Good, good.’ He slurped again. ‘Boyfriend planning on moving in with you any time soon, is he?’
Maya had taken a sip of her Diet Coke and the shock of the question caused her to splutter on the drink as she swallowed. ‘What? No. He isn’t. I mean, I haven’t got one. I’m not with anyone.’ She resented the fact she was becoming flustered.
‘Right. Good, good,’ he repeated distractedly as he picked an imaginary piece of lint from his trouser leg. ‘So, no boyfriend then. So, what do you like to do when you’re not here then? Do you get out much?’
Maya was mortified. What was with the sudden interest and the ‘nice Andy’ act. God, he wasn’t going to ask her out, was he? He was notorious for his reputation with women but, surely, he didn’t think she would be interested. He was old enough to be her dad, and even that wasn’t a positive comparison given the circumstances.
‘I, erm, yes, sometimes. I’m quite a private person actually, Andy.’ Surely that was a big enough hint that she wanted to discontinue the conversation.
‘Oh, me and you both, Maya, love. Me and you both.’ He took another slurp. ‘That’s probably why we get on, similar like that, you see. Most of them in here can’t keep out of each other’s business. That Elaine can’t hold her own water. I’m like “too much information, Elaine”.’ He waved his hand in mock horror.
She was staring at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed now. He was acting so ridiculously out of character; she was even beginning to think he was on something. Why else would he make such a ridiculous claim that they got on. She was feeling decidedly uncomfortable in his presence now and he was making her skin crawl.
‘Do you own your own house then or rent? Sorry, I can’t even remember where you said you lived?’
‘Erm, Miller Court. Near The Eagle pub?’
‘Ah, yes. The Eagle. Did a stabbing there a few years back. Nice pub. Do you go in there much?’
‘Look, Andy, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve really got to get this statement finished. Maybe we could talk another time? Besides, it looks like your disc has finished burning.’
‘’Course, yeah. No problem. No problem. We’ll chat again then. We’re very alike me and you. Very alike.’ He reached over as if he was about to pat her arm again, then seemed to think better of it. He withdrew his hand and stood up. Gulping the last of his coffee, he banged his cup down on the tea tray and finished preparing his discs.
‘Just nipping to the storeroom to get some more paper from the printer,’ she called, desperate to be out of the office and away from him. She was cringing with the awkwardness of the conversation and incredibly suspicious of his sudden interest in her. Hopefully he’d be gone when she got back.
Andy watched Maya leave the office, a fake smile plastered on his face. Bitch, he thought as he reached for his phone. ‘Mr Donnelly, it’s me – about Maya Barton? She lives alone. Miller Court near The Eagle pub,’ he said hurriedly.
There was a long uncomfortable pause in which he could hear Aiden’s rasping breath down the phone. ‘Is that it?’ he said eventually. ‘What the fuck do I pay you for? Get your fucking finger out,’ Donnelly snarled before disconnecting the call.
Beads of sweat emerged on Andy’s forehead. He didn’t mind admitting that Donnelly terrified the shit out of him. Without even thinking of the consequences, he ran into Kym’s office and made his way to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room. He had acquired a spare key a long time ago and knew that amongst its contents, this was where Kym stored hard copies of all the staff’s personnel files. With a quick glance to double-check he was still on his own, Andy unlocked the cabinet and opened the top drawer. He deftly flicked through the manila folders until he found the one with Maya’s name on it.
Hands shaking, he photographed the contents. Not daring to waste time reading anything, he replaced the folder, carefully locking the cabinet back up. He finished processing the final photographic disc, grabbed his jacket and was out of the office by the time Maya returned. Andy sighed with relief as he started his car and drove out of Beech Field police station. He would ring Donnelly again and arrange to meet so he could show him the information on his phone. Donnelly wouldn’t thank him for texting the details and risk leaving a digital trail. God, he needed a drink.
39
Wendy Johnson was worried. She had not heard from her son, Ryan, for several days now and it was very unusual. God knows the boy had given her nothing but trouble over the years. He had brought the police to her door more times than she cared to mention, but despite all that, he had always been a good son. His recent stretch in prison had terrified him. He had changed while he’d been inside, so much so, he had vowed to her that from now on he was on the straight and narrow. She had genuinely believed him too, which is why his sudden silence was concerning.
Her worry had intensified further after hearing from her daughter, Chantelle, that Ryan had not been in touch with her either. The two of them had always been close and it was completely out of character for Ryan not to reply to any of Chantelle’s text messages. As far as Chantelle was concerned, Ryan had kept to his promise to stay out of trouble and wasn’t involved in anything she knew of. That said, Wendy had heard that Aiden Donnelly and Piotr Nowak were still sniffing around her son and trouble clung to that pair like a stray fart in a lift.
Wendy parked her battered old Ford outside Ryan’s flat and reached for the spare key he had given her when he first moved in. She had always kept hold of it in case Ryan was arrested again. That way she could go and check there was nothing incriminating in his flat before the police searched it. Sighing, she heaved herself out of the car and shuffled towards the front door. Her pink T-shirt barely scraped low enough to cover the top of her black leggings. Her greasy hair was scraped up into a large clip and her feet were ensconced in a pair of threadbare beige slippers.
She banged on the door, stuffing a strand of grey hair behind her ear as she waited. ‘Ryan, it’s Mam!’ she shouted through the letter box then stepped back to look for any signs of movement at the window.
Her heart sank a little more at the obvious stillness. He clearly wasn’t home. Where was that boy of hers? Sighing again, Wendy let herself into the flat. A pile of post and takeaway leaflets littered the hall. She kicked them to one side, calling Ryan’s name as she walked into the lounge. The place was in its usual state of disarray, but there was something different. So
mething she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
As she walked into the kitchen, she automatically went to open the window to let some fresh air in. He was clearly back on the weed, which saddened her. He’d worked so hard to stay clean since coming out of prison. If he was back on the weed, what else was he taking and how was he paying for it? Just then the penny dropped, and Wendy realised with a sinking heart what was wrong.
Despite the overflowing ashtray and reek of stale booze, there was an undercurrent of something else. It had taken her a while to recognise the smell of disinfectant, something which always reminded her of the local pool and the swimming lessons she had dreaded as a child. She could smell it now in Ryan’s flat and it surprised her. Ryan normally avoided cleaning like the plague. There was something else, too, another faint odour. It had an underlying metallic tang that she could almost taste but couldn’t quite place.
Frantic now, she began to search the flat for clues of Ryan’s disappearance. Her heart sank at the sight of his cash card and mobile phone on the kitchen table. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere without taking them. Nudging the home key, she could see the list of missed calls from her and Chantelle. The phone was locked with a key code she didn’t know.
Her mother’s intuition was screaming at her that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. She flung open cupboard doors and drawers, not knowing what she was looking for, but convinced her maternal intuition would know when she found it. She even shifted the mattress off his bed, familiar with his old habit of secreting items there, away from prying eyes.
Moving on to the lounge, she searched the television cabinet and rooted under the cushions. Nothing other than some coins and an empty condom wrapper. Frustrated, she sank down on the arm of the settee and reached for her phone so she could ring Chantelle.
‘I’m at the flat,’ she said as Chantelle answered. ‘He’s not here but his phone and bank card are. Something’s wrong. I just know it. I don’t know what to do.’
She could feel tears pricking her eyes as she listened to her daughter’s calm reassurance. ‘You know what he’s like, Mam. He’s probably got involved in some scrape and is lying low until it all blows over.’
As she listened, Wendy Johnson looked down at her feet, suddenly aware of a vague irritation. Her slippers were soaked wet through. How could that be? It had been bone-dry outside when she had walked from the car into Ryan’s flat.
She leant forward and pressed her hand against the navy-blue carpet. It was damp. She stood up and moved further across the room, before dropping to her knees and pressing her hands down in various places: the carpet was soaking. She studied her palm, dropping the phone in shock. She pulled out a tissue which she habitually kept tucked inside her bra and began blotting it against the carpet before sitting back on her heels and scrutinising it. The tissue was stained with diluted traces of blood.
‘Oh, Ryan,’ she groaned. ‘Oh, my boy, what’s happened to you?’ She disconnected the call to Chantelle without any further explanation. With shaking hands, she called the police.
40
As Maya arrived at work for her midday shift, her curiosity was piqued at the presence of more vehicles than usual in the car park. More staff suggested that there may well be an incident ongoing, although she hadn’t heard any reports on the news. She reasoned it could be a training course or meeting somewhere which had caused the extra influx of staff.
Maya was met in the corridor by Elaine and Kym who were heading towards her, clutching notebooks.
‘Great timing, we’ve got a job on and the briefing is about to start. I want you to accompany Elaine to the scene so you may as well sit in.’ Kym was her usual brusque, efficient self, while Elaine looked flushed and dishevelled in her straining uniform.
Maya hurried along to keep up with the two women as they made their way to the second-floor conference room.
‘What’s the job?’ she asked Elaine.
‘A concern for welfare that we’re treating as a murder. We’ve no body yet but a potential scene. The Major Incident Team are covering it along with input from Operation Chrysalis.’
Elaine didn’t elaborate any further as they had arrived at the conference room and followed the stream of detectives who hurriedly sat themselves at the large oval table. Some of the faces Maya recognised as being from her own CID. Others she didn’t know were clearly from the MIT and had been brought over to Beech Field to deal with the investigation.
A tall lady with brunette hair tied efficiently in a French plait that hung down her back, stood and waited as everyone in the room settled down. Her smart trouser suit commanded attention and her sheer presence caused everyone to quieten down quickly, without the usual banter that such a meeting would instigate.
‘Good morning, everyone, thanks for being here. For those of you that don’t know me I am DCI Donna Chambers from MIT syndicate three. This is DI Alison Mitton and DI Redford both based here at Beech Field. We also have DC Stevenson and DC Malone who have been investigating Operation Chrysalis. Thanks also to our SOCO colleagues for joining us.’
Kym nodded an acknowledgement as members of the MIT glanced their way.
‘Right, most of you are aware of what we’re dealing with today but I’m going to briefly summarise for those who don’t know. A nominal of Operation Chrysalis, Ryan Johnson, has been reported missing by his mother. The disappearance is out of character and our concerns are that Johnson has had recent dealings with Aiden Donnelly and Piotr Nowak. For my team who may not be aware of these two, they are the two main players involved in Op Chrysalis. You have access to their intelligence, so I suggest you take the time to familiarise yourselves with their backgrounds.’
She took a moment to peruse the room with her steely grey eyes to make sure everyone was paying attention. ‘It’s rumoured that Johnson could well have pissed off Nowak and Donnelly and, if this is true, from what we know of our suspects, this wouldn’t be good for his health. His mother has been to his flat and reported that there is no trace of Johnson having been there, seemingly for several days.’
She paused a moment to allow those who were frantically scribbling notes to finish writing before she continued. ‘His phone and bank card are in situ, and the carpet in the lounge appears to have been recently, albeit badly, washed. To quote the mother…’ she glanced at the notes in front of her, ‘“it’s pissed wet through and looks bloodstained”. In view of this we are treating Ryan Johnson’s flat as a potential murder scene. The TAU will be joining us later today to conduct a cursory search of the waterways surrounding Johnson’s flat and SOCO are going to start processing the scene.’
DCI Chambers began to relay a list of actions to the team and DI Redford gave a quick briefing on Donnelly and Nowak’s criminal history, so the MIT knew the seriousness of the people they were dealing with. Maya had to admit that the fact Ryan Johnson had recent involvement with the pair, and that he was now missing, did not look good at all. She thought fleetingly of Spence. She knew he and Johnson had been very casual acquaintances and she felt relieved for his sake that he was not involved with the likes of Donnelly and Nowak.
The meeting was quickly wrapped up and the scraping of chairs was followed by a hasty exit of the conference room as the detectives filed out, having been issued with their actions. Kym approached DCI Chambers and shook her hand.
‘Good to see you again, Kym. It seems ages since my syndicate last picked up a job on your division. The last one we had was the fatal arson, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it was. It’s good to see you too. I believe you already know Elaine. This is our newest member of the team, Maya Barton. I’ve asked her to accompany Elaine to the scene. Although it’s only a small, sparse property we’ll get things moving quicker with two members of staff down there. Elaine has got a copy of the forensic strategy. I’m holding the rest of my staff back for now as I’m mindful we may soon be dealing with a body and suspects.’
Chambers nodded. ‘The chances are that Donnelly
and Nowak won’t personally have got their hands dirty disposing of Johnson. Nowak’s currently remanded and our intelligence suggests that Donnelly delegates his dirty work to Sydney Barber, aka Lurch.’
Elaine snorted at the mention of the nickname earning her a warning look from Kym.
‘As we discussed earlier, the forensic strategy is going to initially concentrate on examining the carpet in the lounge. Our own lab is on standby to attend with the luminol. Once that has been done and we can see what we’re dealing with, we can devise the rest of the strategy accordingly. A forensic biologist has also been tasked to attend.’
‘Which biologist are we using?’ said Chambers.
‘Derek Billing? Was with the Forensic Science Service, now with Cellmark.’
‘Ah, yes, I’ve worked on a few jobs with him. Surprised he’s not retired. Seems deeply knowledgeable and is very accommodating but bloody awful halitosis. At least he’ll be wearing a face mask so you two should be spared,’ Chambers said to Maya and Elaine.
‘He is incredibly good at his job but the man’s a menace.’ Kym chose not to elaborate any further. ‘I’ll be in touch, ma’am.’ She clapped her hands and lead Maya and Elaine out of the meeting room. Maya noticed Chambers wince at Kym’s double clap, whereas Elaine and Maya shared an eye-roll behind her back. Not for the first time, Maya wondered whether Kym could have been a Victorian schoolteacher in a former life.
‘We might as well head down in the one van if that’s okay with you? I’ll recover the exhibits if you scribe. Your handwriting’s neater than mine,’ Elaine said as they walked back into the office and gathered their belongings.
Maya agreed and grabbed some snacks out of her drawer to take with her in lieu of lunch. She had learnt long ago that a stash of cereal bars and crisps always came in handy when a job came in. It was beginning to look like she and Elaine would be at the scene for a while and would more than likely end up working overtime.
Definitely Dead Page 17
