by P. F. Ford
Norman felt his enthusiasm rapidly draining away. He had seen this job as a chance to get back into the swing of investigating, but if Bradshaw already knew where she was . . . 'I suppose this is a courtesy call to tell me the job's off?'
'On the contrary! The job is very much on,' said Bradshaw decisively.
'But if you know where she is, what do you need me for?'
'Because it looks as if she's lying on a mortuary slab, waiting for someone to identify her.'
Norman experienced a sharp, involuntary intake of breath. It had never occurred to him that Jenny might be dead. 'Holy shit! Are you sure it's her?'
'A body was found in a derelict squat two weeks ago. It's been reported as a suicide. It was only brought to my attention because she seems to be about the right age, and she has the same natural hair colour. I've been sent photos, but her hair's been dyed so I really can't be sure. It needs someone who knows her to confirm her identity.'
'You know her. Surely you could do that yourself.'
'Yes, I could, but you know her better, and you've seen her more recently.'
'Does Dave know about this?' Norman asked.
'We don't even know for sure that it's her. I think she needs to be formally identified before we start telling anyone anything.'
Norman was dubious. 'Do you think keeping him in the dark is the right way to play this?'
'Honestly? I don't know, but I wouldn't want to risk having a vengeful Dave Slater on the loose. Much better if it's a fait accompli when he finds out. And don't forget that he's only just got over the Diana Randall death. I don't think it's a good idea to tell him about this right now.'
Norman sighed. 'I hope you know what you're doing.'
'It's like walking a tightrope,' admitted Bradshaw, 'and I know I could easily be getting it all wrong and end up falling off. If I am wrong, I'll just have to deal with the fallout. What about you? If you'd rather not get involved, I quite understand.'
'I already am involved now I know she's dead. What exactly do you want me to do?'
'At the moment, I need you to identify her and then find out what happened to her.'
'You don't think it's a suicide, then?'
'I don't know, Norm. It just doesn't sit right with me, but that may be because I don't want to believe it. I need someone I can trust to remain impartial. That's why I've come to you. Will you do this for me?'
Norman had been on the verge of telling Bradshaw about the letter he had received from Jenny, but instinct told him he should keep that to himself. Norman always listened to his instincts.
'Sure, Naomi and I can do it,' said Norman, 'but don't think I'm doing it just for you. I knew Jenny, and I'd like to find out what happened to her.'
'Thank you, Norm,' said Bradshaw. 'I really appreciate this.'
'So, what happens next?'
'I'll email the contracts to you, the address where the body can be found, and what information I have so far. I'm also going to find out who handled the investigation into her death and arrange for you to speak to them. If you need anything, call me.'
Chapter 5
'It's a good job you lost all that weight,' observed Darling as Norman slipped into the passenger seat of her car and clicked his seat belt on.
'If you're going to start making jokes about how the seat belt would never have reached all the way round, don't bother. I'm sure I must have heard every one at least dozen times, courtesy of Dave Slater.'
She looked across at him and smiled. 'Actually, I wasn't going to mention seat belts. I was just going to point out how small the interior of my car is before you started complaining about it.'
'Who me? I never complain,' said Norman indignantly.
She rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, right. Of course you don't.'
'Besides,' he said, ignoring her sarcasm, 'I don't need much room. These days, I'm half the man I was.'
'This time I hope that is a reference to your size and nothing else. Although I think half is possibly a bit of an exaggeration, don't you?'
'It's just a figure of speech, as you well know, unless you're being painfully pedantic.' Norman rubbed his much-diminished stomach. 'I happen to be particularly proud of the fact I've taken heed of my doctor's advice and put the work in to improve my health.'
She reached across and patted his knee. 'And you should be proud of what you've done,' she said, as she put the car into gear and eased away. 'I'm proud of you for what you've achieved too!'
Norman beamed with pleasure. 'You are?'
'Of course I am. I know exactly how hard you've had to work. I was there at the start, remember?'
Norman inclined his head in acknowledgement as he recalled how she had indeed been there at the start, nagging and urging him in the beginning, and then cheering him on as it became a bit easier. She had kept it up for two months before she had finally left him to carry on alone. Now he felt he owed it to her to continue to keep himself in shape.
'Yeah, I know,' he said. 'I wonder if I would have kept at it if you hadn't been there.'
'That's irrelevant. I was there, and you did keep at it. That's all that matters.'
'But you didn't have to do it.'
'What's a girl supposed to do? I'd just found myself a surrogate dad, and then he nearly died on me. You didn't really think you were getting away from me that easily? Of course I'm gonna help you recover. I want a few more years out of you yet.'
Norman was beaming so much his face was beginning to ache. Darling tended to have that effect on him. If she wanted him as a surrogate dad, that was fine by him. He was proud to regard her as his surrogate daughter.
They drove in silence for a few minutes until they were clear of town and out on the open road. 'Right then,' she said. 'Where exactly are we headed?'
'It's a place called Redville-on-Sea on the south coast.'
'Never heard of it.'
'Me neither, until Bradshaw told me this morning. Just head for Brighton and we'll set the sat-nav later.'
'You promised you'd tell me about this case once we got going, so what do we know so far?'
'What we have,' Norman said, 'is a Jane Doe lying on a slab waiting to be identified. Bradshaw told me he couldn't be sure it was Jenny from the photos, and quite frankly I can't tell for sure either. I think it's her, but I need to see her in the flesh to be sure.
'Apparently, they haven't been able to find any dental records for her, which I find hard to believe as she had perfect teeth. It was one of the things that made her stand out in a crowd of homeless people. She would be the only one with a gleaming white smile!'
'I assume you have a backup plan if you're not sure it's her?' asked Darling.
'She left a hairbrush at Dave's. I'm assuming they can get enough DNA from that.'
'What else do we know?'
'They're saying she overdosed on heroin.'
Darling raised an eyebrow. 'Was she a user? I didn't know that.'
'You and me both,' Norman said. 'And I can't see it. She was living with Dave for months, and for most of that time they were pretty cosy, if you see what I mean. He surely would have known, and there's no way he would have ignored it. He would have got her help to get cleaned up.'
'Maybe she had started using and that's what they argued about,' Darling suggested. 'Maybe that's why she left. Perhaps he told her to quit or leave.'
Norman didn't say anything for a moment, and she took her eyes off the road long enough to glance across at him. 'Norm? Are you okay?'
He looked across at her. 'Yeah, I'm fine. I just can't believe I hadn't thought of that myself. I guess that just to goes to show the value of working with a partner. Two heads are better than one, huh?'
'It's just a suggestion. I could be way off the mark.'
'But you could also be right on the mark.'
'He would have told you, wouldn't he?' Darling asked.
Norman was silent for a moment. 'I think he would, but I couldn't say for sure. He seems to have had a lot to deal with over the past year or
so, and it's made him a bit more reticent. I'm not sure he would have admitted they'd fallen out if it wasn't so glaringly obvious she's not there any more.'
'You've had a lot to deal with yourself. You nearly died, for God's sake, but it hasn't changed you.'
'Yeah, maybe, but we're not all the same, are we?' Norman smiled fondly at her. 'And don't forget, that's one of the things he's had to deal with. He still feels it was his fault I had that heart attack.'
'Yes, well, he's probably right.' Darling tightened her grip on the wheel. 'If he hadn't been acting like an idiot, you wouldn't have been wrestling with him, and--'
'Yeah, you can blame him if you want, but you're missing the point,' Norman said quickly. 'It wasn't his fault I was in such poor shape, was it? In fact, I should have listened to him a bit more. He was always telling me about all the crap I was eating and how I should lose some weight. I was an accident waiting to happen, and I was fortunate it happened when there were two people there to look after me.'
Darling turned to look at him again.
'What?' he said. 'It could have happened when I was at home on my own. D'you think we'd be sitting here talking like this if it had?'
'Don't talk like that,' she said, turning back to the road.
'I'm just saying it how it is. Dave saved my life.'
It was quite clear this particular conversational thread was over, and Darling didn't say anything for a minute or two. Norman decided he'd made his point, but he didn't intend to make a big deal of it.
'Anyway,' he continued, 'according to the report, she took an overdose of heroin.'
Darling was quick to pick up on his tone. 'But you don't think so.'
'They found a syringe sticking out of her left arm.'
'And that's odd because?'
'She was left-handed. Now, I've never tried to inject myself,' said Norman, 'but if I was going to, I think I'd want to use my steadiest hand, wouldn't you?'
'I see what you mean. It's unlikely, isn't it? But then, if you didn't know she was left-handed, why would you think there was anything suspicious about it? Maybe this proves the girl in the photo can't be Jenny because she's right-handed.'
Norman pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'Yeah, maybe.'
'What else do we know about the scene?'
'Not much. I've only seen a few photos taken in the mortuary, but Bradshaw's arranging for us to speak with the officers who found the body and wrote up the report. I'm hoping we're gonna know a lot more after that.'
'Norm, we're not just going to identify a body, are we?'
'How d'you mean?' he asked.
'It doesn't need two of us to identify a body, does it? And we have accommodation booked. What's really going on here?'
Norman puffed out a breath. 'Bradshaw doesn't think it was suicide. He wants us to find out what really happened.'
Darling looked at him intently. 'What about you? Do you think it wasn't suicide?'
'I'm trying to keep an open mind. Jenny never struck me as the suicidal type, and the syringe in the left arm makes me very suspicious.'
'Not such a completely open mind, then?'
'And that's one of the reasons you're here,' said Norman. 'You hardly knew her, so you have no preconceived notion of what she would or wouldn't have done. Add the fact that you don't have a very high opinion of her, and you should be the perfect foil should I fail to keep my perspective. You have a reputation for saying what you think, so I expect you to say if you think I'm wearing blinkers.'
She flashed a wicked grin at him. 'Oh, I will, Norm, don't worry. You can count on that.'
Chapter 6
As the sheet was pulled back, Norman stared at the face that had been revealed. She looked far more peaceful than he could ever recall her looking in life, especially when he remembered how snippy she could be. For a weird moment, he found himself hoping she would suddenly open her eyes and direct some sarcasm his way, just to prove they were all incompetent and she'd been alive all along.
'Yeah, that's her alright,' he said. 'Her name is Jenny Radstock. I see her hair is black again.'
'It's not her natural colour,' said the pathologist.
'Yeah, I know. The black was part of a disguise. In reality, she was fiery by colour, and fiery by nature. She could be as sweet as you like one minute and then slice you into little pieces with just a few words the next.'
'You sound like you knew her well.'
'She was involved in a case I was working on one time,' said Norman. 'And then recently she lived with a friend of mine for a while. We weren't exactly best friends, but I knew her well enough, I guess.'
He nodded to the technician to re-cover her face, and turned to the pathologist. 'You know we're here to look into what happened, right?'
Doctor Morton was a studious man who was approaching retirement – and very much looking forward to it. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. 'It all seems a bit cloak and dagger, if you don't mind me saying. It could put me in a very awkward position with the locals. I have to work with these officers, you know.'
'Let's get something straight before we start,' said Norman. 'We're not Professional Standards or anything like that, and we're not here to make life difficult for anyone. We're not even police officers. We work more on a consultancy basis. We've been called in because Miss Radstock was working in what you might call an undercover situation, and we need to make sure she hadn't been compromised.'
Norman tried to avoid the incredulous look from Darling that he could feel boring into his skull.
'You mean you think she may have been murdered?' asked the pathologist.
Norman gave him a small, conspiratorial smile. 'We need to eliminate that possibility. Of course, the nature of our inquiry means discretion is essential on all sides.'
'Of course,' Dr Morton said hurriedly. 'I understand.'
'Can you run us through your findings?'
'I've prepared a copy for you, and I sent a report to the police.'
'Look, we've literally just arrived,' Norman said. 'The police officer we need to speak to is unavailable until tomorrow. That's why we came straight here. This way, if we have any questions, you can answer them for us. So, if you wouldn't mind?'
Morton sighed. 'It's in my office. Come on through. It will be far more comfortable in there anyway.'
They followed him through to his office and took the two chairs he indicated. 'There isn't that much to tell, really,' he said as he opened a filing cabinet and reached for a file. 'She was found in a dingy squat at the back of Claremont Road. The area is pretty squalid and littered with squats. It's where most of the town's down-and-outs live, so finding a young woman with a syringe hanging from her arm wasn't exactly a surprise.'
He opened the file and began scanning the report. 'Although in her case, there were one or two anomalies.'
'Yeah? Like what?' asked Norman.
'Well, for a start, she wasn't as undernourished as I would have expected. In fact, she seemed remarkably healthy for someone living in that area. I assumed she must have been a recent arrival, and she hadn't been living rough for long.'
'That adds up,' said Norman. 'What else?'
'She wasn't a regular user.'
Norman turned to Darling. 'Didn't I tell you that?'
'I only found three needle marks, so I'd say she had only just started using,' continued Morton. 'And I might be able to suggest why.'
'Go on,' Norman urged.
'She had clearly been involved in some sort of accident, as her right foot was damaged, her right ankle was badly sprained, there was a fracture to her right tibia, and heavy bruising to her right calf and thigh. It's difficult to say with any certainty, but I believe this damage occurred approximately two or three days before she died.'
'Jeez, that would've been painful, wouldn't it?' asked Norman.
'Very,' said Morton. 'Maybe the heroin was meant to take the pain away.'
'That's a bit of a drastic way to kill pain,' Darling said.
'Any idea what caused the injuries?' asked Norman.
'Again, it's difficult to say with any certainty.'
'Perhaps it was the trusty blunt instrument?' Darling suggested. 'Do you think she'd had a beating?'
'That's possible,' Morton said, 'but the bruising was also consistent with her having been hit by a car or a vehicle of some sort. Whatever the cause of her injuries, it didn't appear she'd had any sort of treatment for them.'
'Christ,' said Norman. 'She must have been in agony, and there was no one there to help her.'
Morton sighed, shook his head, and returned to the report. 'Although she was well nourished, she hadn't eaten anything recently. Her stomach was virtually empty.'
'What about bloods?' asked Norman.
Morton consulted the report. 'Enough heroin to kill two of her, but nothing else untoward.'
'No booze or anything like that?'
'Not a thing. Apart from the heroin, she was squeaky clean, so to speak.'
'So what's your conclusion?'
'Accidental suicide. I think she was using the heroin to take away the pain, but she used too much.'
'I can see why you might think that,' Norman said, 'but there's something you didn't know that might make you think again.'
Morton looked perplexed.
'She was left-handed.'
'What?'
'She was left-handed,' Norman said again.
Morton looked shocked, but words seemed to fail him.
'Like I said, you didn't know that,' said Norman, 'but now you do, does it make a difference to what you think happened?'
'I just report my findings,' said Morton. 'It's up to the police what they make of them.'
'Yeah, but you're an intelligent man. You must have an opinion, and I'd like to know what it is.'
'In light of what you've just told me, I have to admit it's possible someone else administered the heroin.'
'Wouldn't that be murder then?' Darling said.
'Well, yes, it's a possibility, but at the time I didn't know she was left-handed.'
