The Detective Deans Mystery Collection

by James D Mortain

  Deans looked Scotty up and down with a snarl that he simply couldn’t contain. ‘Alright, Scotty, remember me? Of course you do.’

  Scotty caught Deans’ eye and then quickly looked away.

  ‘Understand what’s going on, do you?’ Deans said. ‘You’ve been arrested in connection with the murder of three persons – for the time being.’

  Scotty remained hunched forwards and still didn’t speak.

  ‘Has he been searched?’ Deans asked the support group skipper.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Mobile phone?’

  ‘One of my team is bagging and tagging it now.’

  ‘Tell them to stop. I want to see it.’

  The skipper lingered on Deans’ face and then left the room.

  Deans paced in front of Scotty who was now staring at the leg boot.

  ‘Looking at something, son?’

  A smile eased from Scotty’s lips.

  The skipper returned to the living room and handed Deans a phone. ‘It’s password protected,’ he said.

  ‘That’s alright,’ Deans said taking the phone. He brought it up to his face and could see a partial text message displayed on the screen. Did you get my message?

  Deans shot Scotty a knowing smile. Oh, don’t worry. He got it.

  ‘Right,’ Deans said. ‘Where was he when he was arrested?’

  ‘Running up the stairs.’

  ‘Okay. That’s where we begin.’ He looked at Scotty. ‘We are taking a little walk up to your bedroom. I think that’ll be a great place to begin.’

  One of the burly officers encouraged Scotty from his seat with a large hand wrapped around his bicep.

  ‘Me first,’ the skipper said. ‘Then the escorted prisoner, then the video behind, please.’

  They took this order and walked up the stairs with Deans at the rear behind the other officers.

  ‘Where’s the weed, son?’ the skipper asked turning to Scotty. The smell of cannabis was just as pungent as the last time Deans was at the house. Not an unusual occurrence in itself, but another offence to stick to Parsons if all else failed.

  Scotty pointed with his head to a bedside cabinet. ‘Bottom drawer,’ he said.

  The skipper gestured to one of his team who went across and found a large zip lock freezer bag stuffed full of the pungent green leaves. He placed it onto the top of the bed along with a small blue grinder.

  ‘I’m further arresting you on suspicion of possessing cannabis, being a controlled substance,’ the skipper said. ‘Anymore?’

  Scotty shook his head.

  Standing behind the man-mountain of an officer still attached to Scotty, Deans could see a thick tattoo weaving up Scotty’s arm, continuing towards his armpit. He had noticed it several weeks before when he first saw Scotty, but thought it was a tribal tattoo. Now he was seeing it through different eyes.

  The skipper told four of his team to search the remaining upstairs rooms along with Sarah Gold, leaving himself, Scotty, the ‘Bluto’ officer, Deans and the drug-seizing officer in the bedroom. This was Deans’ first opportunity to look around and he immediately clocked a large poster on the wall. He went across for a closer look. A piece of text at the bottom said it was the cast of Vikings Seasons 1– 5.

  Bingo!

  Deans looked at two other posters on the walls – both REEF surfing posters. The rest of the room was much what Deans anticipated: piles of dirty clothing, a smelly sports bag and gym kit. Run of the mill stuff.

  ‘Start with the bed,’ the skipper said. ‘So the prisoner can sit down once we’re finished, and then work a clockwise sweep from the doorframe.’

  The spare officer started on the bed clothes; removing the pillows from their casing, the cover from the duvet and working his way methodically downwards to floor level.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ Scotty asked. ‘You’ve got the drugs. I ain’t got nuffin else.’

  ‘I’ll know when I see it,’ Deans said and moved around to the far side of the bed behind Scotty’s back.

  The searching officer came up from beneath the bed with a shoebox. Deans immediately felt a prickle through his scalp. ‘Get the video on this,’ he said. ‘Don’t open it yet.’

  The skipper hollered outside of the room and the videoing officer duly attended.

  ‘Okay,’ the officer with the camcorder said and the searching officer unhooked the side flaps and lifted the lid. He peered inside the box and pulled a nonplussed face.

  ‘Let me see,’ Deans said dragging the box to his side of the bed. It was full of folded notes and letters and a pendant on a thin leather lace. Deans looked over at Parsons and gave him a hard stare. ‘Seize this,’ he said to the officer. He walked to the head of the bed. An Apple laptop was charging on the bedside cabinet. Take it, his inner voice said.

  ‘Seize any computer equipment,’ Deans told the search team.

  ‘You’re not taking that,’ Scotty said.

  Deans stopped and faced him. ‘And why would that be?’

  Scotty grumbled incoherently and turned away.

  ‘Who is this?’ one of the officers asked, lifting a photo from within the bedside drawer. He looked at the other officers with excitement and turned the photo to show them. It was a picture of Amy Poole and she was wearing nothing more than a seductive smile.

  ‘Put that down,’ Deans barked.

  The officer scowled and looked at Deans like he was some kind of freak.

  ‘I said, put it down.’

  ‘Alright! Jesus! You need to take a chill-pill or something, dude.’

  Deans walked to the other side of the bed. Scotty watched his every step. He got to within inches of the support group officer’s face. ‘Look at me,’ Deans said.

  The officer searched for his sergeant.

  ‘Look at me,’ Deans repeated.

  The officer huffed and faced Deans with a self-assured smile.

  Deans looked down at the picture and flipped it face-side down.

  ‘This is not a game. We’re not here to satisfy your fucked-up pleasures.’

  ‘I was only trying to lighten—’

  ‘Well, don’t.’

  ‘Come on you two,’ the skipper said. ‘John, just do your bloody job, okay?’

  The officer bobbed his head and laughed at Deans.

  ‘We’re on the same team,’ the skipper continued. ‘Let’s not have this in front of the prisoner.’

  Scotty was looking over his shoulder, fixated with Deans.

  Two and half hours later, and the property had been completely turned over. The only other evidence they discovered was a dozen smaller baggies of cannabis, scales and another cannabis grinder from the housemate’s room. It looked like the pair were running a small dealing operation, but it certainly didn’t appear that Scotty had sanitised the house in such a short space of time from Jackson contacting him.

  Deans and Sarah sat on the sofa in the living room. They were the final two officers to leave. He rested his head in his hands and his elbows upon his knees.

  ‘Shall we go?’ Sarah asked.

  Deans didn’t answer.

  ‘Andy?’

  ‘Hmm, what?’ Deans replied, looking up at Sarah.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Deans shook his head. ‘I don’t think Scotty is involved.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Deans stared at a space on the floor in front of him. ‘I don’t think he wanted Amy to die. He still loves her.’

  ‘But what about the poster and the pendant?’

  ‘You can have those things without being a killer. There’s something else to all of this.’

  ‘But there’s nothing else here.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Sarah let out an exasperated sigh.

  ‘We’ll find something on the computer, something that will make sense of this.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What about his fingerprints on the spade?’

>   Deans shrugged.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t agree with you,’ Sarah said. ‘All the evidence is stacking up against Scotty Parsons.’

  ‘I know. It is. Isn’t it?’

  Chapter 48

  They met the DCI in the custody reception area. Scotty Parsons had long since been booked in and was still festering in the cell. The county lock up was large enough to house Ranford in one section and Parsons in another, and neither would be any the wiser to the other’s presence.

  ‘I want to go in alone,’ Deans said.

  ‘Don’t you think you should have Detective Gold with you?’ the DCI replied.

  ‘No. I’ll get more out of him on my own.’

  ‘How long do you need to prepare?’

  Deans wiped his nose. ‘I don’t need to prepare.’

  The DCI gave Deans a considered look. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll go to the satellite room with Detective Gold. If you get into difficulty make sure you hit the panic bar.’

  ‘I won’t need to.’

  ‘You seem very confident about that.’

  Deans glanced at Sarah. ‘I’ll be alright. Let’s just get this done.’

  He could feel eyes upon him from the small CCTV camera above the door and he wondered what conversation they were having about him.

  Parsons arrived in the room with his escort.

  ‘Take a seat, Scotty,’ Deans said.

  Scotty did as he was told and sat down.

  ‘I got you a coffee,’ Deans said. ‘Instant mix, but it’s better than nothing.’

  Scotty took the paper cup and murmured his thanks.

  Deans watched and waited until Scotty caught his eye.

  ‘Why are you here, son?’

  Scotty’s contorted face looked towards the door and the camera.

  ‘It’s just you and me,’ Deans said.

  ‘The weed?’ Scotty spluttered and sipped from his drink.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘You lot said something about murders, but I ain’t done nothing like that.’

  Deans observed silently as Scotty rubbed both of his wrists.

  ‘Were the cuffs a bit tight for you?’

  ‘Yeah, fucking kills, man.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’ll pass.’

  Scotty glanced at Deans.

  ‘Why didn’t you come when I asked you to give me a statement about the night Amy disappeared?’

  ‘I didn’t need to.’

  ‘What do you mean, you didn’t need to?’

  ‘Because that copper came to my house, didn’t he?’

  Deans narrowed his eyes. ‘Which copper?’

  ‘I don’t know. He was like you, but had a baldy-head and a breath like shite.’

  Deans peered up at the video camera.

  ‘Tell me what this copper did when he came to see you.’

  Scotty slurped another mouthful of coffee. ‘He said I didn’t have to give a statement if I told him where the weed was.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Yeah, of course. But he said he wanted to check the other rooms out too, so I let him, or he said he was gunna nick me.’

  Deans waited a few seconds. ‘And?’ he said.

  ‘The bastard nicked some of my tools from the shed instead.’

  Deans leaned forwards. ‘Tools?’

  ‘Yeah. I know for a fact they were there before he came.’

  The corner of Deans’ eye twitched.

  ‘Tell me about these tools?’

  ‘What’s the point, you lot all stick together anyhow.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  Scotty groaned and twisted the paper cup in his hands. ‘Alright… a saw, a lump hammer, two chisels and a spade.’

  ‘Your spade?’

  ‘Yeah, my spade. And two fucking chisels, a lump hammer and a saw.’

  ‘Did you see him leave with them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then how do you know he took them?’

  ‘I didn’t see him leave. He was out back and I didn’t see him again.’

  Deans stared down at the table and didn’t speak. The longer he sat motionless, the more Scotty became uncomfortable in his seat and began to fidget.

  ‘What are you going to do about my weed?’ he asked after another thirty seconds of silence.

  Deans didn’t answer.

  ‘Mate, am I in trouble about my weed?’

  ‘You’re not here about your weed, Scotty. How soon after I saw you did the baldy-head copper come over to see you?’

  ‘I dunno? Probably about an hour.’

  ‘The same day?’

  ‘Yeah, the same day.’

  ‘Okay Scotty. I’m going to have to return you to the cell for a bit while I speak to my boss.’

  ‘Has the interview finished?’

  Deans stood up. ‘The interview hasn’t even begun.’

  ‘Am I gunna be in here all night?’

  Deans looked him in the eye. ‘No, mate. You’re not.’

  The DCI was already waiting beside the custody desk. She gave Deans a look that didn’t need interpreting.

  ‘Follow me,’ she said and took Deans to a sound-proofed consultation room, normally used by the solicitors and their ‘clients’.

  ‘Where’s Sarah?’ Deans asked.

  ‘She’s making a phone call to Exeter. I’m getting another support group.’

  Deans nodded. ‘Heard enough?’

  The DCI huffed. ‘More than enough.’

  ‘How are we going to play it?’ Deans asked.

  ‘I’m going to send Jackson to headquarters, catch him off guard. We’ll arrest him there and I’ll give authority to enter his property.’

  ‘Properties, Ma’am. He has one here and one there.’

  Sarah bounded through to the custody unit and joined them.

  ‘Done?’ the DCI asked.

  ‘Done,’ Sarah replied.

  ‘Good.’

  The DCI took out her mobile phone and dialled a number. She waited ten seconds or so and then spoke. ‘Stephen, this is Heather. I need you to go to HQ right away. Forensics have come up with something interesting from one of the unknown skulls. We’re going to be tied up here for the immediate future, so I need you to go instead.’

  Deans watched her eyes dart left and right and then twinkle as Jackson took the bait.

  ‘Good,’ the DCI said. ‘I’ll contact them and let them know you are en-route. What ETA should I give them?’ She waited.

  ‘Ninety minutes, that’s great. Keep me updated with the findings and I’ll see you later.’ She ended the call and her eyes lit up. ‘Let’s get to work.’

  Chapter 49

  ‘We keep this between us,’ the DCI said. ‘Let’s wait for the support group to secure Jackson and then we’ll go in.’

  ‘All due respect, Ma’am,’ Deans said. ‘We simply don’t know if there are others. He could tip them off. We could lose our element of surprise – even after his arrest.’

  ‘You’re right, but we’re restricted by our powers of search. We can act on this as soon as he is arrested. Sarah, do we have Jackson’s local address?’

  ‘I could get it.’

  ‘Not if it involves the help of any other officers.’

  ‘No, I’m sure I wrote it in my diary ages ago when he once asked me to pick him up.’

  ‘You’ve been there?’ Deans asked.

  ‘Only outside. I wasn’t invited in.’

  Sarah flicked through the pages and stopped with a prod of the page. ‘Got it. Six Orchard Square, Hemingsford.’

  ‘Hemingsford?’ Deans repeated. ‘Figures!’

  ‘You know how to get there?’ the DCI asked.

  Sarah nodded. ‘Yes. It’s not far from the address he was sending me to when I was taken.’

  Deans looked at the DCI and together they said, ‘Figures!’

  ‘Okay. I’ll follow in my car. You two take an unmarked transporter in case we need to fill it with exhibits.’

  They spent
the next ten minutes preparing raid-boxes with everything they would need to keep forensically secure. And of course, the big red key: the door ram. It wouldn’t be a “textbook” entry, but in these extreme circumstances, needs must.

  ‘Does anyone else live there?’ the DCI asked.

  ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s his bachelor pad when he’s not in Exeter.’

  ‘Dogs?’

  ‘Doubt it,’ Sarah said. ‘Given the amount of time he’s been spending in this office recently.’

  ‘Ranford told me he was in a relationship with a PC. It’s possible she may be there.’

  ‘I’m going to need to inform someone that we’re going in, just in case?’ the DCI said.

  ‘How well do you know the FIM?’ Deans asked.

  ‘The Force Incident Manager? Not at all – they’ll be based at comms.’

  ‘Do you think Jackson will know them?’

  ‘Can’t see why?’ the DCI said. She thought about it for a second or two. ‘Okay. It’s probably a safe bet and no better person to muster the troops if things don’t go according to plan.’

  ‘Wait until we have the property in sight before telling anyone,’ Deans said.

  ‘Yes, you’re probably right.’

  As prepared as they were likely to be, they made their way towards Jackson’s Hemingsford address and stopped short, using a house on the corner of the junction to offer them a degree of shelter from any prying eyes. It was now dusk and the sporadically spaced streetlights in this small residential area were buzzing amber above their heads.

  ‘The lights are off,’ Sarah said sneaking a glance around the wall line.

  ‘Any update from support group?’ Deans asked the DCI.

  She looked at her mobile phone and shook her head.

  ‘Should we wait until we know he’s definitely gone?’ Sarah asked anxiously.

  ‘We can’t afford to,’ Deans said.

  ‘We can’t afford to do it any other way. This has to be by the book – especially as this is Jackson we’re talking about. As soon as I have confirmation that he’s contained, we’ll go in.’

  ‘Let’s at least take a closer look,’ Deans said. ‘Make sure the place is empty.’

  ‘Good idea,’ the DCI said. She looked at her watch. ‘Can’t be much longer.’