by P. F. Ford
Darling gave him a sharp look. 'I thought there were ways of determining that from the wear and tear on a person's hands or something.'
'Yes there are, but I was told it was suicide, so I--'
'You really don't want to finish that sentence in front of us,' said Norman, getting to his feet. 'We might not be Professional Standards, but I'd be duty-bound to notify them if you finished saying what I think you were going to say. If I could just have that report you said you had ready for us.'
Morton swallowed hard. He reached for a report on his desk and handed it to Norman.
'C'mon, Naomi,' said Norman. 'Let's get out of here.'
Chapter 7
Neither Norman or Darling had been in the best of moods by the time they had left the pathologist's office yesterday afternoon. They were both beginning to think that Jenny's death had been filed as a 'junkie, we've got more important things to worry about' case, which meant no one had tried very hard to look beyond the easy answer.
However, the pub they had been booked into had served up one of the best meals Norman could ever recall eating, and this had done a lot to improve his disposition. He had even managed to convince Darling that things could only get better, although he wasn't actually convinced that was going to be the case.
After an equally satisfying breakfast, they were now on their way to speak to the police officer who had handled Jenny's case.
Detective Sergeant Steve Casey was a world-weary forty-something who had got himself into something of a rut and didn't seem to have the will to extricate himself. This particular rut involved always following the path of least resistance. It was the only way he could even begin to keep up with the workload had slowly but surely destroyed all his enthusiasm and energy over the last few years. He no longer enjoyed his job; he endured it.
When he had first been told he had to meet with Norman to discuss the Jane Doe case, he had been less than pleased. Up until now, he had been the only one who knew exactly how many corners he had cut and how many unanswered questions he had ignored. But he knew only too well that if Norman had anything about him, he would see all those things.
Casey should have been worried about this, but, to his great surprise, he found he didn't seem to care. Or maybe it wasn't that he didn't care, but that he just didn't have any energy left with which to care. He was perhaps even slightly relieved that someone might actually see how the only way he could meet the demands placed upon him was to cut corners and cheat the system.
He was due to meet Norman in less than five minutes, and he had no idea what he was going to tell him. He wondered how it had all come to this. He had been a good copper once, hoping to make a difference, but now the only way he could keep up with the pace and appear to be doing his job was by not doing it. How could that be right? When had policing become a numbers game? And who was being served by such a system? Certainly not the victims of crime.
'Well, Steve, we haven't seen the case notes,' said Norman after they'd made the introductions. 'Can you talk us through it? Then if we've got any questions, we can get them out of the way right now. Is it okay if Naomi takes notes?'
'Yeah, okay,' said Casey, still undecided how he should play this situation. He opened the file and stared at the notes. 'Right, so, the Jane Doe--'
'We told you her name was Jenny Radstock,' Darling interrupted.
Casey glared at her. 'Right, whatever. Her body was initially found by two police community support officers. Someone had dialled 999 and reported a body in one of the squats, and the PCSOs were sent to check it out. Luckily it was a fresh one, or the smell would probably have made one of them puke all over the scene.'
He looked up with a sly smile on his face, but Norman had obviously chosen not to see the funny side, and Darling simply scowled back at him.
'Can I just remind you she was friend of ours?' said Norman quietly.
'Right, sorry.' Casey looked back down at his notes. 'Anyway, the PCSOs called it in, and I got lumbered with going to assess the scene. When I arrived, the doctor was there, and he suggested it was a case of suicide by accidental overdose. I couldn't see any reason to question his conclusion, and my report says as much. That's about it, really.'
He sat back with a smile of relief.
'I assume you took photos of the scene?' asked Norman.
'Yeah, of course I did.' He shuffled a handful of photos from the file and slid them across the table.
Norman carefully laid them out on the table in front of them, Darling studying them alongside. 'Did you think she was a habitual junkie?' Norman asked.
'Why not?'
'Well, I'm no expert, but she looks rather well fed and dressed for a junkie, don't you think?'
Casey looked at the upside-down photos. 'I can't say I gave it much thought. When someone's got a syringe sticking out of their arm and they've injected enough heroin to put an elephant in a trance, I don't need to check the labels on their clothing to know what I'm dealing with.'
'And you're sure you were dealing with a suicide?'
'Look, mate, this is a busy patch of turf. We don't have time to fart around.'
'Fart around?' Darling echoed. 'Is that what you call it when you're investigating a death?'
Casey looked at Darling. 'I don't know what rank you were,' he said, testily, 'but you're not a copper now. Even when you were, I doubt you're old enough to have got higher than constable, so a little respect wouldn't go amiss.'
'Easy now, Steve,' said Norman. 'We're not here to judge. We just want to know the facts, that's all. Naomi's just a little touchy about drugs.'
Casey glowered at Darling, but he said nothing more.
'And Naomi also knows something that you don't know about Jenny,' added Norman.
'Oh, yeah? And what might that be?'
'She was left-handed.'
Casey shrugged. 'Yes, and?'
'And if you were left-handed, which arm would you inject into?' Norman asked.
Casey looked confused for a moment, then it dawned on him. 'Oh. Well, yeah, but I didn't know that, did I? I just assumed.'
'And we all know what happens when we assume, don't we?'
Casey now looked distinctly uncomfortable. 'But I didn't know, did I? Anyway, it's not impossible. Maybe she was ambidextrous.'
'She wasn't,' said Norman.
'The pathologist never said anything about that,' Casey snapped.
'Well, he already knows what we think of him,' said Norman.
Something had caught Darling's attention, and she pointed to one of the photographs. 'What about this pizza on the table?'
'So? It's a pizza,' said Casey.
'But five slices have been eaten.'
'And your point is?'
'My point is obvious – there was no pizza in Jenny's stomach, so who ate it?'
Casey's mouth flapped open.
'Don't you think that suggests someone could have been in that room with her?' asked Darling.
'Not necessarily,' said Casey. 'That pizza could have been there for days. Maybe she had it the night before and didn't finish it.'
'But you checked, right?' Norman asked.
'Eh?'
'You got the lab to check how fresh it was, and you checked with the pizza place to see when they delivered a pizza to that house. It would tell you how long it had been there. It's not rocket science.'
'I can't imagine anyone would deliver pizzas in that area,' said Casey. 'They probably wouldn't get paid!'
Norman looked intently at Casey. 'When you say you "can't imagine", are you saying you didn't actually check?'
'There was no point--'
'Yeah, I think I'm getting the idea.' Norman shook his head. 'What about the injuries to her leg? The pathologist suggested she had probably been hit by a car. We know she didn't go to the hospital, but did anyone report such an accident?'
Casey's mouth was working, but he seemed to have lost the power of speech.
Norman heaved a heavy sigh. 'Let's cut to
the chase, shall we? Am I right in thinking you didn't make any effort to investigate anything to do with this case?'
Casey looked at the floor but said nothing.
'Let me guess – accepting it was a suicide was the easiest thing to do, right?'
Casey glared at Norman and then banged his fist on the table. 'Have you any bloody idea how much time it would take me to investigate every incident that lands on my desk?' he roared. 'Well? Have you?'
Norman stared impassively back at Casey. It was Darling who spoke. 'Actually, yes, I have. That was one of the reasons I quit.'
Casey looked surprised. 'Oh. So you understand why I took the easy way out. It's the only way I can keep on top of everything.'
'Sorry,' said Darling. 'If you're looking for sympathy you've come to the wrong girl. If you can't cope, you should ask for help or get out altogether.'
'Doing it your way just proves you're not keeping on top of everything, doesn't it?' asked Norman.
Casey's face told Norman he had obviously never thought of it like that. 'No one is given the time to worry about that, mate. It's policing by numbers. All they worry about here are crime figures and targets.'
'How do you sleep at night?' Darling asked.
'It's easy,' Casey said. 'I'm so bloody exhausted, I can hardly stay awake long enough to eat my dinner!'
Norman stared at Casey and slowly shook his head. 'I can't recall the exact wording of the oath you swore when you joined,' he said, 'but I know the words "fairness, integrity, diligence, and impartiality" are included. Now, tell me how you've applied any one of those words to this case.'
Norman gave Casey a full minute, but he didn't speak. 'Your silence sums it up pretty accurately. There's also a bit in the oath about "discharging your duties to the best of your skill and knowledge". Obviously you ignore that bit too.'
Casey was staring at the floor again and Norman sighed. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'We really didn't come here for this. We just wanted to know what happened to Jenny, but the fact is, you can't actually tell us because you've ignored your responsibilities, right? Is the crime scene still intact?'
'Some vandals set fire to it about a week ago,' said Casey miserably.
'And even that didn't make you stop and think?' asked Darling.
'Don't you dare judge me. You have no idea--'
'Of course we have an idea. We're both police officers who recently left the service,' hissed Norman, leaning forward in his chair, his face a mask of fury. 'That means we're also in a position to judge, whether you like it or not. Naomi's right – you should have told your boss a long time ago if you can't cope.'
There was an awkward silence in the room until Darling spoke again. 'Okay,' she said, turning a page in her notebook and readying her pen. 'So how about we see what possibilities we can draw from what we do know. What do you think?'
She looked from Casey to Norman, but it was clear neither was going to offer much input at this stage. 'I'll start then, shall I?' She put pen to paper and began writing. 'Fact one: we know she was probably hit by a car a day or two before she died.
"Fact two: according to our knowledge, Jenny was not a heroin user, and the pathologist backs this up with his findings. Fact three: fact two makes it unlikely she would have injected herself with heroin. The fact she was left-handed and the syringe was found in her left arm tends to support this theory.
"Fact four: there was a half-eaten pizza in the room. It could have been there from the day before, but it could also indicate someone else was in the room before she died, or even that someone else was in the room when she died.'
She looked from Norman to Casey and back. 'Feel free to join in, won't you?'
'One conclusion,' said Norman, who had now calmed down, 'is that someone forcibly injected her with heroin and then sat eating pizza as he watched her die.'
'Jesus, do you think so?' Darling asked.
Norman pulled a face. 'We're a long way from proving it's not just pure fantasy, but it's a theory that could fit with what we know.'
Casey looked guiltily at Norman. 'It did occur to me that she might have been dealing and stepped on someone's toes.'
Darling pointed to the file on the table. 'I suppose there's nothing about that in there.'
Casey squirmed uncomfortably.
'But then I suppose including that might have involved you doing some real police work,' Darling finished.
'Did you seriously think she was dealing?' Norman asked Casey. 'Do you have any proof? I've known her a long time, and I never saw anything to suggest that. She shared a house with another police officer for a while, and he never suspected her of anything dodgy either.'
'It was just a possibility,' said Casey. 'Administer a quick overdose and Bob's your uncle. It's a popular way of dealers eliminating the competition around here.'
Norman glowered at Casey. 'But not that popular you thought you should mention it in your report.'
'Did she have any personal possessions?' asked Darling quickly. 'Mobile phone, credit cards, purse?'
'No, there was nothing like that,' said Casey.
Norman swore angrily. 'Surely that one fact, on its own, would have been enough for you to question the suicide idea! Who hides all that stuff before they take their own life? At the very least, you should have been thinking robbery.'
He glared at Casey once more for luck then stood up. 'C'mon, Naomi. Get your notes, grab that file, and let's get out of here. We can't afford to waste any more time.'
'What about me?' asked Casey miserably.
'Frankly, I couldn't give a toss about you,' said Norman. 'But maybe you should consider writing a letter to your boss.'
* * *
'I don't think there's much hope for law and order in Redville if Steve Casey's anything to go by,' said Darling as she started her car. 'D'you think they're all like that in there?'
'I sure hope not,' said Norman. 'In fact, I'd bet he's the only one with an attitude that bad. But it only takes one bad apple, you know?'
'Don't get me wrong,' said Darling. 'I don't feel sorry for the guy, but he does have a point about it being a numbers game.'
Norman sighed. 'Yeah, but if he's struggling to cope, he should be honest enough to say so. Faking it doesn't help anyone, does it?'
'Are you going to report him?'
'I'm not in a position to do that, but I'll let Bradshaw know. If I know him, he'll kick up a stink, but let's hope he can wait for a while.'
'Why's that? Do you want to get out of the way before the shit hits the fan?'
'Oh, I don't have a problem with alienating the locals,' said Norman, 'but if we need help at some stage, we're more likely to get it if we haven't pissed everyone off.'
'Now that's a good point,' Darling said. 'Okay, so where to?'
'Let's go back to the pub,' he said. 'I need to speak to Bradshaw, then we can have something to eat while we work out what we know and where we go next.'
Chapter 8
Derelict was the first word that came to Norman's mind when they turned into Claremont Road. 'Are you sure this is it?' he asked.
'It's not great, is it?' said Darling. 'A little TLC certainly wouldn't hurt this place.'
'I think it's too late for TLC. I think demolition is the only solution for a place like this.'
As he spoke, a rat the size of a Jack Russell terrier ran across the road ahead of them. Norman whistled in surprise. From the corner of his eye, he saw Darling shudder, and her fingers whitened on the steering wheel.
'Oh my God,' she said. 'Was that rat?'
'Did you see the size of it?' he said gleefully. 'I swear I've seen dogs smaller than that.'
'If there are rats here, I'm not getting out,' said Darling adamantly. 'I hate rats.'
'There are rats everywhere,' said Norman. 'I read somewhere that in London, you're never more than a few feet from a rat.'
'That's as maybe,' said Darling, 'but this isn't London, and that was no ordinary rat.'
Norman gr
inned at her discomfort. 'Ha! I never knew you would be scared by a little rodent.'
'That was not a "little rodent". That thing was bloody humongous!'
'The rats will be more scared of you than you are of them,' Norman said sagely.
'Trust me, they couldn't possibly be,' she said. 'And I would appreciate it if you'd stop enjoying this quite so much.'
'It's just that I've never seen you scared of anything before,' he said with a wry smile.
'So now you know I'm human. Can we just get this over with?'
'Hey, you're the one who stopped the car, not me. Anyhow, we've come in from the wrong end.' He pointed to the shabby house opposite. 'This is number 93, we want 17. It'll be down the other end.'
Darling sped down to the other end of the road, coming to a stop outside number 17.
'Come on,' Norman said, opening his door.
'Not with a rat that big hanging around.'
'The rat was down the other end of the street. What do you think it's going to do, sprint down here just to scare you? Anyway, they don't "hang around" waiting for people to frighten.'
'Since when did you become the expert on rat behaviour?'
'Come on, Naomi. If this place is burnt-out like Casey said, we're only gonna be here two minutes. The sooner you quit griping and get out of the car, the sooner it'll be over with.'
'Alright,' she snapped. 'If you insist, I'll come with you, but just you remember this wasn't my idea.'
She switched the engine off, climbed from the car, and stomped round to follow him to the front door of the house.
'I think if I was a rat I'd have more sense than to get in your way,' said Norman over his shoulder. 'I've seen what you can do to a grown man.'
'That's different,' Darling said. 'I'm not scared of grown men.'
Norman stopped at the front door, raised his hand to knock on it, and then hesitated.
'What?' she asked from behind him.
'This door looks so rotten it's falling apart.'
She leaned around him for a closer look. 'I can't believe anyone actually lives inside there, can you?'
