Definitely Dead

by Kate Bendelow

  Photographs of suspects were also taken every time the individual was admitted to custody. Maya had always found it alarming to see how drink and drugs took a toll on someone’s appearance over the years. The earlier photographs of someone beginning their criminal career usually displayed subdued and teary-looking youngsters. As the years progressed and addiction and poor lifestyle choices took their toll, the images displayed gaunt, hardened-looking, toothless individuals who had aged well before their time. Mark Posner was a typical case in point, and he hadn’t been on the gear half as long as most.

  Maya sighed. It was a fruitless task, none of the information she had read about Posner provided her with any answers. She decided to review the photographs taken at Karl Gorman’s house. After all, that first scene was where her suspicion had been initially aroused. Perhaps whatever she had overlooked on the day would be revealed in the photographs.

  She took a moment to recall everything of that scene, including her interaction with Chris before she even entered the house. She recalled how impatient he had been with her until he had found out Gorman was her first death. Then she slowly studied each of the photographs Chris had taken before she’d even got there.

  She scrolled through the external house shots and the ones leading from the hall and the living room. Each picture had been taken before a stepping plate had been placed down so the floor could be viewed. Eventually, she clicked onto the images of the kitchen. Just seeing the photographs triggered her olfactory memory. Once again, she could smell the rotting stench with a top note of body odour. She was reminded of the state of disarray the kitchen had been in, from the overflowing bin to the sink which was piled high with rubbish.

  Then she spotted it. There it was. On the table close to Karl Gorman’s head and the overflowing ashtray – a tea towel. Suddenly, she realised what had left her with the niggling feeling of uncertainty as she was about to leave the scene.

  Why would someone who lived in as much squalor as Karl Gorman, a man who clearly didn’t even bother with the washing up, have a clean tea towel out on his dirty kitchen table? Fair enough if he had a couple tucked away in a drawer somewhere, but why was it out on the table next to his dead body? The sink was overflowing with detritus and being used as a bin. It just didn’t make sense.

  Maya was now adamant there had to be a link between each of the deaths. There was a common denominator somewhere. She just needed to find it. She typed in Gorman’s details. One by one she scanned through each of the crimes he had been linked to and reread the circumstances. She made a note of the crime numbers. Then she logged into Socrates, the SOCO database.

  She searched for the crime numbers and got a match. There had been a rape scene, which Gorman had been sentenced for. According to the system, Chris had examined the scene and Andy had dealt with Gorman. Interesting. She did another frantic crime search, this time against Posner. The last time he had been arrested for possession and supply of a controlled substance, officers had searched his house. Once again, Andy Carr had been the SOCO who had attended the scene.

  The hairs on Maya’s neck began to stand. This was it – she was getting close. She just knew it. She felt breathless as she reached for the phone and called Ewan. He answered straight away.

  ‘Ewan, it’s Maya again. Listen, I need to ask you a huge favour and it’s quite urgent.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘When we provide our fingerprints and DNA for elimination purposes, are those samples input onto the main database?’

  ‘No. There’s an additional system just for elimination purposes.’

  ‘How often are eliminations checked?’

  ‘It’s not something that’s routinely done. Usually just on request.’

  ‘Is there any chance you can compare the other fingerprints found on Celeste’s suicide note to the fingerprints on the elimination database.’

  ‘Yeah, I can ask. You sound excited – care to share?’

  ‘Not yet. If you don’t mind. I’m learning not to open my mouth until my assumptions are proven to be fact.’

  ‘Fair enough. Leave it with me. I’ll let you know if we get an ident.’

  ‘Thanks so much, Ewan.’

  As Maya hung up, she pondered. The answer was so obvious it was staring her in the face. Andy Carr had to be the link between them all. She just needed to wait for the results of the fingerprint ident to be confirmed before she voiced her concerns. Even then there was still one huge question to answer: if Andy was responsible for all the sudden deaths, then why?

  Today is the day.

  72

  Maya had hoped that examining the stolen cars at the garage would be a welcome distraction. Unfortunately, she still found herself checking her phone every few minutes in case Ewan contacted her. She was consumed with the link between Andy and the deaths and was finding it hard to think about anything else. She didn’t even know how long it would take to check the elimination database. It might be an hour or a week. Would she be told the results straight away or would a fingerprint expert have to double-check the fingerprint like they did with crime-scene marks and suspects? She would phone Ewan again as soon as she got back to Beech Field and ask.

  Finally, just as she was about to leave the garage, she received a text. It wasn’t from Ewan, but Spence. She frowned as she read the message.

  Need to meet. Urgent.

  Maya was concerned, what was so urgent? What could possibly have happened now? She quickly typed a reply.

  What’s wrong? Come around after I’ve finished work.

  His reply was instant.

  No. Now. I’m at a mate’s, 11a Bentcliffe Street, Wardley. I need your help.

  Maya felt her stomach churn with unease. Whatever Spence needed to see her about so urgently surely wouldn’t be good news. As much as she wanted to get back to Beech Field and speak to Ewan, she couldn’t just ignore Spence. Despite her reservations, she cared about him and perhaps he had answers for her that would prove he was completely innocent of the McCluskey stabbing and all other wrongdoing. She was determined that today would be a day for answers.

  She knew Bentcliffe Street. It wasn’t too far from Ryan Johnson’s flat and she would pretty much be driving past it on her way back to the police station. Maya replied to let him know she was on her way. Surely whatever it was wouldn’t take too long. Perhaps it was even good news for a change. Either way, she was looking forward to seeing him again even though she knew she probably shouldn’t.

  73

  Bentcliffe Street was rough. Even the summer sun, which always made the dourest of places look brighter, did nothing but accentuate the grubbiness of the street. Shards of broken glass glistened menacingly in the gutter and even the weeds looked spiky and intimidating. Most of the terraces were tinned up with council curtains – huge metal shutters which were covered in graffiti-sprayed phalluses and bad spelling.

  The few remaining houses that weren’t unoccupied appeared run-down and unloved. Broken gates swung forlornly from hinges. Number 11 Bentcliffe Street looked equally shabby with newspaper glued to the inside of the front window instead of curtains to afford the occupants some privacy. The number 11a and an arrow had been crudely spray-painted in white along the side of the house, indicating the rear of the property.

  Maya wondered what on earth Spence was doing in a dump like this. She could only conclude that his sister had kicked him out and he had no choice but to sofa surf. Surely, he could do better than this? She carefully stepped over a pile of dog muck and dodged a piece of corrugated iron that was propped along the wall of the house. She made her way to the rear of the property. 11a had been sprayed with the same paint across the front door which swung open, revealing a cheap linoleum-covered stairway. Music was playing loudly inside. The throbbing of the bass line frayed her nerves and made her feel disorientated.

  ‘Spence? It’s Maya, are you in?’ she shouted above the music.

  She paused hesitantly at the door. Her senses were heightened, a
nd she felt decidedly uncomfortable. She heard a shout of acknowledgement and shook her head. Of course, he was in. He’d asked her to come, hadn’t he? She was being a snob. The only reason she felt uncomfortable was because the place was a dump. She knew better than anyone how down on his luck Spence was right now. Whatever was going on must be important for him to drag her round here. He had asked for her help after all.

  She headed up the stairs, avoiding the mould-coated walls, and followed the sound of the raucous music. She stepped into the lounge. Despite the glorious weather outside, the room appeared dim, thick brown curtains pulled against the window to block out the light. The room was filled with a giant corner sofa, a TV and a dated hi-fi unit in the corner which was blaring out the music.

  The air in the room was thick with cigarette smoke. It added to the Stygian gloom. In the few seconds it took her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she heard the lounge door bang shut. She jumped and turned towards the noise. Her eyes widened with sheer terror; her mouth dropped open with shock. Lurch was blocking the door, grinning at her.

  74

  ‘Is Maya back from the garage yet?’ Chris had the office phone tucked under his chin.

  ‘No,’ Amanda glanced at the clock, ‘she didn’t leave until late so I’m not expecting her back just yet.’

  ‘Ewan? She’s still out doing jobs. Can I take a message? Oh, okay mate, she’ll be pleased about that. Ta-ra then.’ Chris put the phone down and turned to Amanda. ‘It was only Ewan letting her know about a fingerprint ident. He’s going to try her on her work mobile.’

  Chris sat back in his chair, rubbing his stubble as he gazed across the room, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

  ‘What are you daydreaming about?’ Amanda threw a pen at him to get his attention.

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing. I’m hungry, that’s all.’ He stretched noisily, scratching at his stomach. ‘Fancy nipping out for lunch while Cruella isn’t here?’ He nodded towards Kym’s office door. ‘My treat,’ he added.

  Amanda raised an eyebrow suspiciously. ‘You’re actually offering to release the moths from your wallet. What’s got into you?’

  Chris pulled a mock-surprised face. ‘Nothing! Can’t I treat me old mate to lunch without having an ulterior motive? Come on, get yer coat, you’ve pulled!’

  He scrawled a note announcing they’d gone for lunch and stuck it on the office door before locking it. Jovially, he linked Amanda’s arm and the two of them strolled down the corridor laughing like a couple of school kids. Not a care in the world.

  75

  Aiden Donnelly’s fear had been replaced by a renewed anger. The last time he had succumbed to the pain in his bursting bladder and once again felt the snaking warmth of his own piss creep down his trouser leg, had been the moment his trepidation had turned into a white-hot rage. His humiliation masked the pain and discomfort he was in. Who had the fucking audacity to keep him like this?

  He had long since given up on banging his feet against the container wall to gather attention. He knew there was no chance of anybody being nearby. That was the reason he and Nowak had chosen this location in the first place. And that was exactly why he had intended to bring Maya here. It should have been her hog-tied like this and coated in her own fear and excrement, not him. She needed to learn her lesson. Whereas he had no idea why he was being kept like this. But when he did, that person would pay, and he would enjoy every second of pain he could inflict upon him.

  His bouts of unconsciousness had thankfully eased off, and although he was far from well, the intensity of the pain in his head had lessened. He was also beginning to feel the benefits of having consumed the food and water left out for him. He had even managed several times to successfully get back on his feet, as much as his constraints would allow. Now he was sat with his aching back resting along the wall of the container, when he heard a noise. He held his breath as he strained to listen more closely. He had definitely heard a car door slamming.

  Then he heard the sure and certain sound of footsteps. The scraping of the metal bolts being drawn back. He was on his feet quicker than a prize fighter, senses primed and raring to attack. He was shocked to register the face of the person, but the relief of being saved was all encompassing. He didn’t even care about asking questions. He just wanted to be untied and let out.

  ‘Well, I never thought I’d be pleased to see you.’ He let out an uncharacteristic high-pitched laugh. ‘What are you waiting for? Come and untie me,’ he demanded angrily. Then he stopped. He was stunned at the sight in front of him. ‘What’s going on? Wh… wh… what the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

  His earlier relief was replaced with fresh fear and his bowels turned to soup. The figure strolled towards him with all the confidence of someone who had the upper hand.

  And a loaded handgun.

  76

  Maya’s legs were shaking so violently with fear she could barely stand. She had never been more terrified in her life. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to get out, but there was nowhere for her to run. Lurch filled the door with his massive bulk, his head skimming the top of the door frame. Gasping, Maya staggered backwards until she felt the edge of the couch dig into her calves. She sank down wordlessly, without once breaking eye contact with him.

  She flinched as he walked towards her, but he merely reached over to switch the hi-fi off before returning to stand in front of the door.

  ‘Wh… wh… where’s Spence?’

  ‘He’s not here. It’s just us.’

  ‘What do you want?’ The words were barely audible, more than a whisper. She sank back into the couch, wrapping her arms around her shins, trying to shrink away from him.

  ‘To talk to you. That Spence? I took his phone. It was the only thing I could think of to get you here.’

  ‘Is this to do with Marcus Naylor?’ Maya gulped back tears, sickened by the sound of his name in her mouth.

  ‘Who? No.’ Lurch was clenching his fists in frustration. ‘I TOLD you. I just need to talk.’

  ‘Okay, sorry.’ Maya raised her hands placatingly. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I need your help…’

  Maya was stunned to see the big man stifle a sob as he searched for the next words.

  ‘I’ve done something bad. Because of you. For you. And now I don’t know what to do.’ Lurch groaned like a wounded animal. Maya was horrified to see him raise his fists and begin to hit his head.

  She leant forward, pleading soothingly despite her own fear. ‘Hey, please don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.’

  This was obviously the right reaction, as Lurch stopped straight away. He dropped his fists to his sides, but his face remained lowered, unable to look Maya in the eye.

  Maya became aware how volatile the man clearly was. She knew she would have to choose her words and actions carefully if she was going to get out of this situation unharmed.

  ‘I can see something is upsetting you. I bet it’s not easy to talk about.’ She paused, letting the words sink in. ‘But you’ve got me here to help you. You said you’ve done something bad. Do you want to talk about that first?’

  Lurch swiped at his eyes before nodding glumly. He still couldn’t make eye contact and instinctively she knew, if she was going to be able to communicate with him effectively, that that would have to change.

  ‘Listen to me,’ she managed a soft laugh, ‘I’m asking you to talk to me and I don’t even know your name. I guess you know I’m Maya. Who are you?’

  This did the trick as he raised his head. ‘Lurch.’ He drooled slightly. ‘My real name is Sydney. But everyone calls me Lurch.’

  A cold chill ran through Maya. It ran down her spine to her legs and almost paralysed her with shock. She recognised the name from the briefing at Ryan Johnson’s murder. Lurch aka Sydney Barber. She recalled it being read out and how Elaine had snorted with laughter at the name.

  This was Donnelly and Nowak’s henchman. The monster who was believed responsible fo
r the violent murder of Ryan Johnson. She recalled the haunting images of Ryan’s shattered skull and her eyes widened with fear. This was the same monster who had terrorised her in her own bed. She flinched uncontrollably, inching towards the back of the couch as her eyes frantically scanned the room for an escape route. Should she scream? From what she had seen of the estate, even if the neighbours were in, it was highly unlikely they would be the type to come running to the sounds of a potential domestic.

  Then her thoughts turned to Spence. Lurch had taken his phone so he could lure her here. She was sure Spence wouldn’t just hand it over, which means it had probably been taken by force. Was Spence lying in water somewhere, his dead body wrapped in tarpaulin with his skull smashed open? Maya fought back a sob and took another deep breath. Fighting back the panic attack that was mounting in her chest, she frantically thought about what she could say or do next. Instinctively she knew that it could mean the difference between life and death.

  77

  The moment Spence opened his eyes, he regretted it. The light was a laser beam of pain, which burnt into his retina. His mouth was dry and woolly, every part of his body ached.

  ‘Spencer, darling, you’re awake. It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here.’

  Spence was surprised to hear the familiar sound of his mum’s voice and took a chance with the light, squinting carefully in her direction. He smiled weakly at the sight of her sat by the side of his bed. She looked to have aged overnight, the concern on her face was palpable.