by Linda Coles
“I'm sure you didn't come to compliment me. What can I do for you, Detective?”
“That's more like it. Here’s what I'm interested in. But you’ll need to cast your mind right back.”
“Oh?”
“You remember Michael Hardesty, don't you?”
“And?”
“What can you tell me about what happened all those years ago?”
“Nothing you don't already know. The guy killed my brother Chesney. And now he is doing time, as he deserves.”
“Why are you so certain he killed your brother?”
“Because he was found guilty. Everyone knows he killed Chesney. Now, if that’s all you want to talk about,” he said standing. The metal feet from his chair scraped noisily on the floor. Chairs weren't bolted down in this room; they didn't need to be. McAllister wasn't considered a high enough risk.
“Sit down, would you?” demanded Jack. “Only I'm not so sure it's as simple as that anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I've been taking a look at the old case; I’ve just been working on a similar one that happened only a few days ago.”
“You mean that dick Dupin? I saw it on the news. Serves him right.”
“Well, I'm guessing you haven't seen the latest news; otherwise, you would know that he wasn't responsible for that death.”
McAllister sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head and smiled up at the ceiling.
“Bloody convenient. What did he have to do to cover it up?”
“Well, nothing, as it happens. Pathology doesn't lie. You see, a pathologist deals with facts, not gut instinct; not opinion, but facts. The pathologist found Dupin was in no way responsible.”
“I see where you're going with this now. You're wondering if the same thing happened and Hardesty isn’t responsible.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Why are you bothering? It's my understanding that he’ll be out soon enough.”
“I wouldn't call another two years soon enough. So, back to my original question. What do you remember about that night and the events that followed?”
“I'm not telling you a damn thing; you can go to hell. Hardesty deserves everything he got, and he'd better watch out when he gets out, because families are like elephants. We never forget.”
McAllister stood abruptly, strode to the door and banged on it twice with his fist. He paced for a moment until the officer unlocked the door and he was led from the room back down the corridor to his cell. Jack sat alone, staring at the painted concrete blocks, and wondered if he’d handled it the right way. McAllister now knew what Jack was on to, and also knew that Hardesty was an inmate in the same prison, and how long he had left to serve. Jack would have been more surprised if he hadn't known. He hoped he hadn't made things worse for Hardesty, who was a damn sight frailer-looking than McAllister had been. He’d ask Mino about his health on the way out.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jack was back at the station a good deal earlier than lunchtime this time. His main task for the day was already done—though the job wasn't finished yet. Amanda knew where he was, so at least he didn’t need to explain his whereabouts to her. And since Dupin was closeted in his office, he’d no sooner have any idea where Jack was that he would the square root of 96. Jack smiled at the thought—the square root of 96. He had no idea either, actually. He’d managed to get through school at a limp and charm his way into the force—education had been low down on Jack’s list of priorities as a youngster. All he’d wanted to do was play in a band, be a drummer, but he’d never given it a chance.
Walking down the corridor towards the squad room, he caught a whiff of what was cooking in the canteen for lunch, though he couldn't detect exactly what it was. That was never a good thing; it meant it would be something mediocre and nondescript like beef casserole. Curry was always on Friday and one to look forward to; it was his indulgence each week. For the rest of the time, doctor’s orders were a sandwich or a salad.
He inhaled again. Pie and chips, maybe? But try as he might, he couldn't identify the aroma.
Up ahead he saw Dupin leaving the squad room and heading his way. Jack had to admit, it was good to have the guy back at work. Dopey as he might be, the team had felt rudderless without him. Jack nodded politely as Dupin approached him, and to his surprise Dupin pulled up in front of him.
“Jack,” he said, “I've been meaning to talk to you, but with everything that's been going on, it fell by the wayside. I've got to go out now, but come and see me when I get back later on this afternoon, would you? I’ll be in my office later.”
“Will do,” said Jack, curious to know what the DI wanted to talk to him about. It was obviously something from before the accident, though he couldn't think what it could be. Dupin was already walking away, clearly in a hurry, and waved back at Jack as he went. Jack shrugged and carried on to the squad room and a fresh coffee.
As he turned the corner, Amanda leaped up from her desk and hurried towards him. She took Jack by the shoulder and guided him urgently to the coffee cupboard, which was where he was about to head anyway. She closed the door and stood with her back to it, arms folded.
“Are you going to tell me what's bugging you?” asked Jack, “or are you going to keep me a prisoner in here all day?” He was smiling, but Amanda wasn’t.
She took a deep breath and let it out again.
“The second autopsy is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Faye is aware, of course, and knows the pathologist that the family organised, as you might expect.”
“So, what's the problem? We knew this would happen.”
“This particular pathologist is particularly picky. I guess I'm just hoping that what we thought was all over will in fact stay all over. And I know Faye is concerned, because if the pathologist, comes back with different results, it’ll be one all. Then who do we believe? Will there have to be another autopsy to decide between the two results?” Her voice was getting higher in pitch.
“I know who I would believe. But the family without a doubt would go with the latest autopsy if the results fitted their belief.”
“Oh, of course they would, Jack. That's what they're hoping for.”
“You know as well as I know that Faye Mitchell is our own version of Dr Picky, so I'm not worried.”
“I wish I could be as confident as you are,” she said, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand. Tiredness was catching up with her.
“Until the new autopsy results are in, there is absolutely no point in thinking or worrying about any possible outcome other than what we already know,” he told her. “It will wear you down.”
Amanda nodded gloomily.
“Will you attend it? Or do you want me to go?” he asked her.
“I'm not sure any police officer would be welcome, actually, Jack. But thanks for the offer.” She checked her wristwatch. It was coming up to 11 am. “I need something sweet,” she said. “Do you want anything?”
Jack rummaged deep in his pockets for loose change for the machine and pulled out a couple of gold coins. “I'll have a Kit Kat, please, if you're going,” he said, and handed over the money. “Do you want another coffee? You look like you could use one.”
She moved away from the door and nodded yes as she slipped out. As she walked through the squad room towards the vending machine, she glimpsed the crowd that was still gathered outside the front of the station. It looked like they were in for the day. But the crowd weren't her concern, and she focused on purchasing a Kit Kat and a Mars bar to tide herself and Jack through until lunchtime. The machine wasn’t co-operating.
Waiting for Jack’s Kit Kat purchase to complete, she glanced again at the crowd outside and took a moment to read some of the messages on the placards. Some had been quite creative in their phrasing, and others needed to learn how to spell properly, but the gist of what they were trying to say was clear to anyone who could read. As she scanned the group, a familia
r face caught her eye: Melissa ‘Bagpipes’ Ross. She was brandishing a banner and shouting, and appeared to be the one leading the demonstration. Amanda looked for Mr and Mrs Parker but they didn’t seem to be there. Maybe Jack was right: maybe Melissa was leading this, whatever ‘this’ was. Maybe she felt cheated out of more than the death of her fiancé and was looking for a result that suited her needs.
The second autopsy couldn't come soon enough, Amanda thought. She hoped that Dr Mitchell’s findings would be corroborated, that things would settle back down to normal by the end of the week. When something happened to someone close to you, she knew, it felt a whole lot more personal than any other case. Dupin was one of their own and still might face prison time. It would hurt everyone that knew him.
She must have been stood a while, because she felt Jack by her side.
“I’ll sort it, you get the coffee.”
Chapter Forty
Jack kicked the vending machine for a second time. “Damn thing,” he cursed. “You never do what you say you'll do.” The Kit Kat still hadn’t shaken loose.
Raj was approaching the machine, counting change into the palm of his hand. “Playing up again, is it?”
“It seems you can buy one item, but the second one always gets stuck—and the second one is my Kit Kat.”
“Always the way. I find if you whack it just here with the heel of your hand rather than your foot, it works just fine.” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Trial and error,” Raj answered, “but trust me: the heel of your hand, right there.” He pointed just below the coin slot.
Jack gave it a whack and his Kit Kat fell down into the tray below. “Well, blow me down,” he said. “What do you know.”
“Like I said,” said Raj. “Trial and error.”
Jack stood aside so that Raj could get his purchase and watched as the first item came free with ease, but his packet of salt and vinegar crisps required the help of a thump from Raj’s palm before the packet fell free from the machine. Raj turned and gave Jack a ‘told you so’ look. Satisfied they each had what they’d come for, they headed back to the squad room.
Amanda was on the phone, frowning and evidently deep in conversation with somebody, as Jack approached her desk. She waved for him to stay until she’d finished the call. Who she was talking to he’d no idea, but from the look on her face, something was afoot. He waited patiently like a schoolboy standing outside the headmaster’s door.
At last, she finished her call and sat back in her chair. She stayed silent for a moment, obviously pondering whatever the caller had told her. Eventually she turned towards Jack and said, “You're never going to believe what I’m about to tell you.”
“Oh? Try me.” He pushed her Mars bar across the desk to her, but she ignored it—a bad sign. Clearly something serious had happened. He pulled a chair from a nearby empty desk and sat down opposite her, their knees almost touching.
He waited. And waited some more.
Finally, she turned towards him and locked eyes with him as she delivered the news.
“They’ve found a body.”
“Right.”
She took a deep breath before starting the sentence again. “They found a body, and it’s in Gordon's old backyard. They were using a digger, and they've dug up a body.”
It took a moment for Jack to realise exactly what Amanda was telling him. A body had been dug up in her father-in-law's old garden. Not good.
“Holy shit.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Well, I guess we’d better head over there and see what's what.”
“I guess we’d better,” she said, gathering her bag and car keys as though she were on autopilot.
Jack followed her uneasily out and down the corridor.
The late morning sunshine was warm on their shoulders as they slipped inside Amanda's car. Jack wound his window down as they pulled out of the car park; there was no need for air-conditioning just yet. She still hadn't said much, so Jack didn't fill the empty space with conversation. He figured her brain was working overtime about how this could all turn out. It wasn't every day a body was dug up in the garden of the house your father-in-law had just vacated. And what about Ruth?
Traffic moved relatively freely as they headed south onto the bypass, towards Caterham and a house Amanda had visited many times in the past. Not only had it been her father-in-law’s house; it also wasn't the first time they'd both been there in connection with a crime. Jack wondered if it was anything to do with Des Taylor, a missing landscaper they’d been searching for a couple of years ago. They'd interviewed Madeline Simpson, the lady of the house, about his disappearance, and while Jack hadn’t thought there was anything to it, Amanda hadn't been as certain.
When Madeline Simpson had died in an accident a short time later, the investigating officers had been forced to put Taylor's disappearance down to his simply going AWOL. He’d owed money, he was an adult, and he was entitled to leave town any time he liked and not tell a soul. And that's what Jack thought had happened.
With news of a body being dug up, however, he knew he might have to change his thinking.
“Are you thinking of the landscaper?” Jack enquired.
“I'm trying not to think about the landscaper. There is no reason to think it's him. That could just be a coincidence.”
“We know they don't exist, not in our game.”
“Alright, then. I'm hoping that we’re wrong, that the Simpsons had nothing to do with this.”
“I hear you. Let's wait and see.”
They drove the rest of the journey in silence, each thinking of possibilities but neither voicing their thoughts. As they pulled into Oakwood Rise and headed to Gordon Simpson's old house, they could see the earthmoving equipment, along with a group of men taking an early lunch. They’d obviously downed tools at their find.
Jack and Amanda got out of the car and approached the gathering, and a man with a sunburnt face wearing a yellow hardhat stood and greeted the two of them.
“Phil Springer,” the man said, introducing himself.
Jack took out his warrant card and flashed it. “Detective Jack Rutherford, and this is Detective Amanda Lacey. Are you in charge, Mr Springer?”
“I am, yes. It was me that found the body.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Not much to tell, really. I was digging the earth out for the pool, shifting the earth into the truck, and the next minute I could see what appeared to be a long bone sticking out of a pair of jeans, or the remains of a pair of jeans. I put the digger bucket down, had a closer snoop, and nothing has been touched since. Thought I'd better call you lot.”
“Then we’d better take a look,” said Jack. Amanda still hadn't said anything, leaving it all to Jack. The three of them walked over to where the digger had been working, treading carefully so anything that might be important wasn't destroyed underfoot. As soon as they’d taken a look, Jack would contact the SOCO team to come out and do their bit.
He stood looking into the hole that the digger had already excavated for the new pool. It was going to be some pool. In the jaws of the digger's bucket was what the man had described: a boot with a long bone sticking out of it and blue cloth that looked like denim. More bones and cloth were visible at the bottom of the hole.
Jack stood and stared at them. Amanda was still deathly quiet.
“I’m going to have to close this site down while we investigate,” Jack told Springer, “so once we've spoken to each of your men, you may as well all go home. We will remove the body; I think it's fair to say it’s a human body.”
“And how long do you think that will be?” Phil asked. “I'm paying for the hire of this equipment, and I can't afford for it to sit idle.”
“I'm afraid that's exactly what's going to happen, Mr Springer. That's just the way it has to be. It's inconvenient, I know, but we have a crime scene here now, and that takes priority. If I were you, I'd have a chat to your hire company. It's not your faul
t.” Phil Springer grunted. “Why don't you carry on with your lunch, and we’ll take a statement from each of you shortly.”
“Right,” Springer said defeatedly. The man was obviously thinking about the added cost to his project. Not to mention the homeowners’ annoyance at their pool works stalling.
“Have you notified the owners of the property, by chance?” asked Jack.
“No, not yet. Do you want me to call them?”
“Yes, please. At the very least, they'll be wanting to know why you've downed tools. I’ll need their details also, so we can speak to them too, though I doubt they have any involvement from what I can see here. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to bury a body and then have you dig it up, I'm sure. And this body has been in the ground some time.”
Jack watched as the man returned to his team to deliver the news, and then took his phone out and called the SOCO team.
He also called Dr Faye Mitchell. She’d want to take a close look at this one.
Chapter Forty-One
Amanda still seemed to be in a world of her own, and Jack couldn't understand why. She was always so gung-ho when a new case came in. But today she was different; vacant, worried-looking. Yes, this was Gordon's old place, but why was that having such an effect on her? Maybe it was just the connection with Ruth, but again, why would that be so bad? Ruth and her father weren't responsible. And Madeline Simpson had been exonerated, even though Amanda had had a bee in her bonnet at the time, suspecting the woman was involved somehow. He took his vending-machine Kit Kat from his pocket and unwrapped it, then slipped a stick into his mouth while his thoughts circulated in his head. What could possibly have happened here? And to whom?
If this was the landscaper, Des Taylor, in the hole, this would be a very interesting coincidence. It was well known that he had had gambling debts. And the local bookie’s shop was owned by the very same Mac McAllister that Jack had been to see only a few hours ago at the prison. Jack didn't think McAllister was a murderer, but even if he had killed Taylor, why would he have buried him in the garden that he was working in? Not to mention the fact that he'd never get his money back by killing the man. It was stupid and didn’t make sense. As for coincidences, Jack had never believed in them.
