Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2)

by Malcolm Hollingdrake

  ‘Where are you Carla Sharpe?’ she asked into her glass. ‘Where on earth can you be?’

  ‘In a moment we are going to walk over there. You’ll be a good girl and you will take the place of that scarecrow. It’s attached to a firm frame, I checked before. Once I leave you, I’ll send your photograph and the message to your friends and they can race to find you. They’ll check the location I send too.’ Shining the torch directly at her he studied her eyes. Everything was written in their green, yet premature rheumy depth. He could see a cocktail of fear and confusion but also a smattering of relief that the ordeal was nearly all over. ‘Will Cameron arrive first or will it be Debbie? Maybe it will be Bill? Big, strong Bully Bill.’

  Removing the scarecrow from the metal armature he hooked Carla’s arms over the horizontal ‘T’ piece. Producing the Gaffer tape from his pocket, he bound her to it by securing the tape under her armpits. He strapped her to the crosspiece ensuring her body hung like that of the original. Running the tape around her waist he fastened her to the vertical upright. It was clearly a deep-rooted scaffolding pole as it never moved. Suddenly he was hit by a strong and pungent smell that was brought on a gust of wind. It immediately brought death and decay to mind. Shining his torch towards the nearby hedge and allowing the beam to slowly search along its length he saw the cause. The part decaying corpse of a small deer was just visible. Ignoring it he turned back to Carla.

  ‘I told you this farmer made them strong. They’re out in all winds and weathers but you, my dear, should be home by morning. That’s what friends are for. By the way, sorry for the occasional smell. That’s nature for you.’

  Removing the goggles from the scarecrow, he slipped them over her cap and then over her eyes. Her world blurred immediately. From his pocket he removed the chosen CDs already prepared and attached to string. They were each placed in the same location as those on the scarecrow. One was affixed to Carla’s waist and another to each sleeve. Stepping back, he removed her phone and took two photographs. He checked them. ‘That’s not too bad, Carla. They’ll not drive past. How could they possibly fail to recognise you? You’re like the original Dr Syn. You wouldn’t know who he was though would you? At my age, neither should I. We are the product of our mother and our father’s father if our father is missing from our lives.’

  Carla tried to wriggle but the tape proved too secure. The metal pole seemed rigid too. I’ll try harder when he’s gone, she thought. She watched as he carried the scarecrow to the car placing it into the boot before he returned.

  ‘I’m going to leave you in a minute, Carla. You still don’t remember seeing me, do you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘You know of our past meeting. I mentioned it when we talked in the garage but let me take you back in time again. Try to remember. You were with your friends. There was Debbie, Bill, Cameron and another. You were standing outside the bar that’s in the side road near the Scarisbrick, you know it?’

  She nodded frantically, wanting him to just go.

  ‘Good. Someone was telling jokes and an innocent man walked by. Debbie was laughing so much she stepped back and barged into him. Bill decided to become abusive. You thought the fear on the man’s face was funny, the others did too. I saw it clearly. Do you remember now?’

  After a moment she nodded, this time it was barely visible.

  ‘That stranger, that butt of your laughter, was me. I was that joke of a man. I had done nothing to deserve that. Fortunately, one of your group, Debbie, showed some compassion, some kindness whilst you … that’s why you’re here and not her. Fear and uncertainty make horrible bedfellows. However, Carla, we met before that. You don’t recognise me?’ He lifted his hand and extended his little finger. ‘You were very drunk. You seemed to know me that night when you laughed again. You did this.’ He waggled the digit. ‘Remember, your friend saved me. I can see you’re confused and frightened, I can tell that. But I didn’t recognise you then, it was only later when I saw your face clearly. Now, I see that you’re uncertain as to whether I’ll do as I’ve said. What’s the saying, Carla? You don’t know anyone until you walk in their shoes. You are at this moment metaphorically walking in the shoes I walked in that night, filled with fear and uncertainty of what the next minutes would bring. That’s the worst part – the not knowing. Not fun, is it? Those are my wellingtons you wear. Then there was the broken promise and the humiliation – we never like to experience those things, do we?’

  She shook her head again and tears began to flow behind the goggles.

  ‘This, Carla, is retribution. You’ll remember that word now and you’ll remember me.’ Leaning closer he whispered in her ear. She twisted her head round to look. He lifted the goggles. ‘Yes, it’s me.’ The smile on his lips was cold but his eyes laughed. Good night, Carla.’

  Copy Lane was busy, even at 7.30am. April moved through to her desk. Four Post-it notes were attached to her computer screen. Each contained a reference search code and each was initialled by Michael. She noticed he had also left a note under the drum sticks.

  Went through the requested CCTV last night. I’ve tagged the customers against the diary for Nic’s Nails and Beauty for the last month. As many numbers and addresses as possible. Any curious links I’ve highlighted.

  You’ll see there are also links to CCTV for the areas between Sharpe’s place of work and her apartment and also positioned near Presso. I’ve linked with the CCTV footage for the day after also – the day she vanished. It’s clear she did go for a run. There are three references. The last at 7.45am.

  Interestingly, I tracked images of Callum Smith from his social media profile. You might be surprised to see that he called at the salon two days before she went AWOL but there’s no reference in the diary so possibly it was a social call?

  I checked Carla Sharpe’s phone records. They’re on file: reference 20/6692/PH. Again, I’ve highlighted key elements to save you time. The phone’s been off since 11am on the day she disappeared. The phone company will notify if it’s used.

  Sorry I haven’t managed more.

  When you read this, I’ll be dreaming of beautiful things.

  Enjoy your day. Good luck.

  Michael

  PS I’ve put a request out for dashcam footage for the areas where Carla was last seen running and the predicted route. It’s a long shot but at least it’s a shot!

  The penultimate sentence brought a brief smile, but she swiftly underlined the section noting Callum Smith. It was clear he had lied when questioned. She found the report of the interview. He stated that he had not seen her for a month or so. It was unclear, and now too vague. Picking up the phone, she requested he be brought in for questioning. More murders are committed through estranged relationships, jealousy, vengeance and in some cases, pure anger, than any other motive. April knew she was pushing the limit of her authority as it had been just over forty-eight hours since the missing person report had been logged. She was also aware that this period in a search was critical if Carla had been kidnapped. People can soon become possible victims, she thought as her mobile rang. It was DCI Mason, her immediate superior.

  ‘I see we’ve a briefing at eight regarding a Carla Sharpe? Why, Decent? It’s low grade.’

  She had only sent him the timetable and the initial reports before leaving the evening before. She neither expected him to be present nor contact her unless, of course, he felt it was inappropriate and a waste of police time and resources at this stage.

  ‘Sir. I’ll be co-ordinating the next stage on receipt of the information from interviews done late yesterday afternoon and evening. We’ll then be better informed as to the next step. Overnight the CCTV results have been viewed and checked and we have a clearer picture of Carla Sharpe’s movements on the day she went missing. We also have an anomaly. A statement given by her last partner doesn’t check with CCTV. I’ve requested he be brought in immediately.’

  ‘Good. I’m presuming from what you say that you’ve based t
his on the facts received and not some airy-fairy concern by a member of the public whose friend has failed to meet an appointment? You’ve done the necessary risk assessments considering the necessary steps and resources management? Or, as I feel from your communication, DI Decent, you feel strongly that she’s not just skipped off with some new fella for a few days without telling anyone?’ The question was rhetorical; he did not give her time to answer. ‘April Decent, just keep me informed and don’t embarrass yourself. Do an assessment report with all the new intelligence and get it on my desk as soon as. If you have to up the risk level then go through FIB and do it through the authorising officer. Don’t embarrass yourself at this early stage in the bloody game.’ The phone went dead.

  April felt vindicated and breathed a quiet but shaky sigh.

  Chapter 6

  The sun had broken over the trees at the far side of the field as birds circled before settling on and within the furrows. Two crows chased a lone buzzard, an aerial dogfight set against the misty azure. The smaller adversaries would soon see the buzzard move away, another dawn victory. Wood pigeons busily pecked at the new shoots, oblivious of their guardian standing fewer that ten feet away. The spinning and flashing discs proved to be an ineffective deterrent. The gas driven bird scattering gun set further down the field looked more like a miniature tank than a deterrent. It certainly had the desired effect on the birds but not on the farmer’s neighbours who were constantly angered by the early morning blasts. There was a whisper of a breeze and few clouds. In low-lying areas a layer of gossamer-thin frost remained. The dawn chorus had broken early and it would be another hour before those regulars using the lane would pass. It would be unlikely they would note a difference to the regular farm figure. They knew the scarecrow; it had been there a few weeks now and it had brought a smile to those passing. It was one of five dotted around the farm.

  The red cap was now tilted to the right. Unless up close it was not easy to see that the exposed right side of the neck gaped cleanly and angrily, almost mouth-like. Below that and over the front of the fluorescent coat ran what appeared to be a deep, red-brown stain. The arms moved in a slight pendular fashion driven only by the slight breeze that was stronger on the exposed field. To the passer-by familiar with the scene, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It still brought a glance and a smile.

  Cameron Jennings woke with a start as his mobile phone vibrated along the bedside cabinet seconds before the ring tone, the old-fashioned phone bell rang loudly. Lifting his head, he could see the screen had illuminated and cast a hazy green glow in the darkened room. Grasping it, he noticed the call was from Carla’s phone. He rubbed his eyes and brought the phone to his ear. He did not give her a chance to speak.

  ‘Bloody hell, Carla, where the fuck are you? We’ve all been worried sic—’

  ‘I need your help. Now, today. I know it’s early. Don’t tell the others. Meet me at the start of Ralph’s Wife’s Lane, the entrance by the footpath. You know the place. Look for a blue car. Now, Cameron, now!’

  The voice was unsteady as if she were breathless. He listened and was about to speak when the call ended abruptly.

  ‘Carla! Carla!’ he shouted angrily into the void.

  With fumbling fingers, he dialled her number but the phone was dead.

  Ending the call, Cameron glanced at the time on the phone’s screen. Swinging his legs out of bed he went into the bathroom. He tried to put into perspective what he had just heard. What on earth could be the problem, especially considering the time. He laughed, a laugh of realisation when something comes back to haunt, to slap you in the face. He had always believed and preached that true friends never question. Should one of them ring in the middle of the night requesting help you do not ask why. You go. That is what true friends do. What’s round comes around, Cameron, he said to himself as he splashed water on his face before glancing in the mirror. Bugger the hair, get a cap. He quickly dressed. Unbeknown to himself, he slipped his crew neck jumper on inside out. Grabbing a coat, cap, wallet and keys he prepared to leave. He then remembered his phone. Collecting it, he checked again. There had been nothing since that early call. He knew the spot. He had run the path often. By car it should take him no more than ten minutes. It took eight. Just as she said, a blue car was waiting in the small lay-by.

  Tony and Skeeter were already in the room as Fred and Lucy entered. April would be the last. Tony had placed a fiver on the desk and was already negotiating a bet with anyone who would take it.

  ‘My money’s on Carlos Briggs,’ he mumbled tapping the note.

  Fred looked at Lucy and then at the fiver. He did not get time to ask. He thought about the evidence – could she again be in the Lake District and distracted? He did not commit.

  ‘Morning. First things first. We still have nothing. No sighting nor communication. Nothing from public requests. What we do have is some information from Michael, who’s been working overnight on the CCTV and phone records linked with the case. Key to that intelligence is Callum Smith. In his statement he informed us that he hadn’t seen Carla for, and I quote, “a month or so”. But we have video evidence clearly showing he went to the salon only last week when Carla was present.’

  Fred slipped a fiver over Tony’s. ‘You’re on. I’ll take Smith.’

  April looked up and noticing the money frowned but continued. ‘He’s due in for further questioning at eleven thirty this morning. Skeeter I want you present. Secondly, we have a list of telephone contacts from those interviewed earlier. Many correspond to the list of friends we already hold. Fred and Lucy interviewed three yesterday and one is due in later today. Fred, you’ll be with me for that.’

  ‘Ma’am. Do we have a time?’

  ‘Five.’ She pointed to the two fivers on the table. ‘Who’s gambling on whom?’

  ‘I think Smith and Tony here thinks it’s someone called Carlos Briggs.’

  ‘Make that the last time you ever do that in one of my briefings. End of.’

  Tony raised his eye brows and looked at Fred before mouthing the word, Ouch!

  April moved on. ‘Carla was last seen on CCTV running along Fairway. She was seen on the camera situated at the Fairway Park and Ride. There were no other sightings in that area.’

  Fred interrupted. ‘According to the statements from her neighbours she ran almost daily. Her route was regular. From her flat in Argyle Road she’d run around the perimeter of the golf links and that would include Fairway. Normally about forty-five minutes to an hour. They also said she always ran wearing headphones. Cameron Jennings told me that he occasionally ran with her. According to him, she’d always kept herself fit and did all things right apart from liking a drink or two and sometimes more than a few too many.’

  ‘Noted. Fairway can be a busy area at best.’

  Lucy chipped in. ‘Along Fleetwood Road close to the links there are some hidden areas of pathway now the trees are in leaf. Have we requested …’

  ‘Webcam footage has been requested, Lucy. Michael put out the call last night. The likelihood is, if she got into a car, she knew the driver otherwise there would have been a struggle.’ April turned back to Fred and Lucy. ‘The friends?’

  ‘Everything seemed normal. They tended to socialise regularly. Drinks, meals out. Clubs in Liverpool on occasion. The girls would do more as a collective. However, it would appear she’s buggered off before without telling anyone.’

  There was an immediate silence. The information came as a body blow to April. Had she responded too quickly in starting the investigation – bolted before the gun? If she had, she would be a laughing stock. Fred turned his attention to the fiver still sitting on the table and mumbled to himself.

  ‘When?’ April’s voice was shaky and she leaned on the table to regain some equilibrium.

  ‘After one of Smith’s affairs. Away for a couple of nights. Contacted no one and they were told when she returned there was no phone signal which I believe. No signal, no communication. According to one fri
end, I have his name on file, she came home and went straight back to him.’

  ‘Shit!’ April’s face flushed red for the second time.

  ‘But she’s on her own now, ma’am. There’s no reason to indicate she’d just go. All the statements I’ve seen suggest she’s more settled and in control than ever.’ Lucy’s words were judged, professional but more importantly, comforting. ‘And this is only my belief – if she’s been taken and the perpetrator knew of this previous disappearance it would play into his hands. It would give time.’

  April looked around and could see that Lucy’s prognosis of the evidence was at best optimistic but probably naïve. Few seemed to give it credence.

  ‘What about this so-called relationship with Callum Smith?’

  ‘On and off for four or so years. They eventually got together. Lived in a flat on Lord Street at that time but when they parted company, she moved into a one bed in Argyle Road. Nice too. According to Debbie Sutch, they were well suited as a couple. Both up for a laugh, neither wanted marriage nor kids, both fitness freaks. Seemed perfect but he liked to stray and she liked the booze. We requested permission to access her phone records and she’s been fully co-operative.’

  ‘Lucy, check with the landlord of their old flat. Usual procedure. Damage, nuisance etc. Skeeter, Tony, what about Nic’s Nails and Beauty?’

  Skeeter spoke. ‘She was well liked; worked there some years. Good client list, according to the boss. We’ve asked for that to be sent through. Her diary for the last month was given to Michael last night, so that’s why he’s tagged Callum, I guess. As you said, and contrary to his original statement, we now have evidence he was in last week.’