Jaded

by Rob Ashman

  ‘Continue, Roz,’ Quade said.

  ‘Earlier today I told you that the man who runs the yacht club had in his possession a set of photographs that showed Eddie Marshall on the Blue Lagoon. This is despite Marshall telling me he wouldn’t be seen dead on a boat. I came to you with the information and you told me to drop it, even though the timeframe fits perfectly with what we believe happened to Michael Ellwood. You told me to drop it – three times.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, because we had already covered ourselves in shit by smashing up Bernard Cross’s nightclub, and his lawyer is baying for our blood. An operation you screwed up, I might add.’

  ‘I never told you the Blue Lagoon was owned by Delores Cross.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How did you know the Blue Lagoon belonged to Delores Cross?’

  ‘You must have told me, or Tavener told me.’

  ‘Nope, neither of us mentioned it. So, how did you know?’

  ‘I must have read it in the case file.’

  ‘Nope, it’s not in there either.’

  ‘Christ, I don’t know, lucky guess I suppose.’

  ‘What did you do after I told you about the photographs?’

  ‘Erm, I went out for a drive to clear my head and think things through.’

  Kray clicked the remote and a list of telephone numbers and times came onto the screen. ‘This is the call log for Marshall’s phone. You can see here there were three calls made to his number at 16.33. We traced the calls and they were made from a public call box in the Norbreck Castle hotel. Do you know where that is, sir?’

  ‘Of course I know.’

  ‘You should do, because this is a screen grab from the CCTV showing you parking in the car park of the Norbreck at 16.15. Can you tell us what you were doing there?’

  ‘Do I have to go through this pantomime, Mary?’

  ‘Answer the question, Dan.’

  ‘I needed a piss, all right?’

  ‘You were a ten-minute drive from the station and you chose to use the public toilets in the hotel?’

  ‘I did, so what?’

  ‘Marshall didn’t answer his phone, so we also looked at the other calls made from the call box at the Norbreck. The next one went to this number…’ Kray tapped the screen. ‘This is the offices of Bellville Entertainment, a corporation owned and run by Bernard Cross.’

  Bagley shook his head. ‘This is all very interesting I’m sure, but–’

  ‘And this…’ Kray pressed another button on the remote and a video came up on the screen showing a boat with a gang of people swarming over it. ‘Is the Blue Lagoon. Do you have any idea what these people are doing?’

  ‘You seem to be the one with all the answers, enlighten me.’

  ‘Looks to me like they’re cleaning. Cleaning it to death. Now why would they be doing that?’

  ‘I don’t know – excess bird shit?’

  ‘I think they are cleaning it to death because someone tipped them off that the boat might be subjected to a CSI examination. A suggestion that I’d put into your head an hour earlier.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. Anyone could have tipped them off.’

  ‘That’s true, but I only told you and the ACC.’

  ‘What…?’

  ‘And while we’re on the subject of tip-offs, I could not get it out of my head that when I was sitting opposite Billy Ellwood he was telling the truth about the auction. I could see it in his eyes, I believed him. Here is the call log from the same public call box at the Norbreck, it shows a call to Marshall’s mobile the night before the raid. It lasted twenty seconds.’

  ‘This is fantasy land stuff–’

  ‘This is a screen grab taken from the CCTV in the hotel reception – that’s you, sir. Did you need another piss?’

  Bagley was looking at the screen, his mouth slightly ajar.

  Kray watched him squirm. ‘There is one more piece in the jigsaw. We know Marshall worked in Nottingham in the year 2000, where did you work, sir?’

  ‘You already fucking know.’

  ‘That’s right, you worked for Nottingham police, then you moved to GMP three years later. Guess where Marshall was based at that time…? He’d moved to Manchester to run Bernard Cross’s security operation for his business interests in the city. Then Marshall gets a transfer to Blackpool, presumably to set up the people trafficking operation, and guess who follows him?’

  ‘Have you finished?’ asked Bagley.

  ‘Yes, I think so, sir.’

  ‘This is nothing more than a bunch of inflammatory accusations and flight of fancy rhetoric, Detective Inspector. You have no evidence to support any of your outlandish claims. It’s all supposition and conjecture. You’re doing what you always do – letting your overactive imagination run away with you.’

  Quade got to her feet. ‘I’m with Roz on not believing in coincidences and, if I’m to believe what you’ve been telling us, we have more of them than I can shake a stick at. I’ve heard enough. We need to pick up Marshall.’

  ‘Already underway, ma’am.’

  Kray crossed the room and opened the door. Two uniformed officers stepped inside. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, it was Tavener.

  ‘Roz, I’m at Marshall’s house. You better get over here fast.’ He was out of breath.

  ‘What the hell’s happened?’

  ‘It’s like an abattoir.’

  Chapter 47

  I’m not homophobic, far from it. But the sight of a naked man lying spread-eagled on the ground does nothing for me. However, when that man has his hands and feet nailed to the floor and his name is Eddie Marshall I have to admit… I’m getting some kind of rush.

  I was worried that the topple down the stairs had killed him. By the time I reached his crumpled body he was barely breathing and his pulse was weak. I straightened him out and after a little while he improved, though he still remained unconscious. This proved to be a silver lining because I had been wondering how I was going to nail the bastard to the floor.

  I’m straddling a chair which I took from the cafeteria. It’s one of those cheap plastic chairs that stack together. I only have one, but it does the job. I’m looking at Marshall with my forearms resting on the back. The room is damp with a high ceiling and all round wooden cladding. There are shelves and racking bolted to the walls. I think the place was used as a storage facility at one time. However, looking at the gradient of those stairs, how anyone could haul supplies up there is a mystery to me.

  I have two camping lamps bathing the interior in yellow light, giving the room a flickering warmth. The rest of my toys are here; rope, electrical cable, plastic sheeting, petrol, pliers, knives, hand tools – you name it, I’ve got it. Everything a torturer needs for a good day out.

  ‘When can we start?’ Jade is skulking around, eager to get stuck in.

  ‘There’s no point if he’s out cold. Where’s the fun in that?’

  ‘Can we cut his cock and balls off?’

  ‘And have him bleed to death? That’s way too quick.’

  Jade is standing over Marshall, staring at his genitals. ‘I think we should do it at some point.’

  I nod my head. At least she’s not yelling at me.

  Marshall doesn’t look good. His left eyelid has sunk back into its socket, where his false eye was knocked out in the fall. A tennis ball-sized purple bruise has come up on the side of his head, and I’m sure when I laid him out his shoulder looked dislocated. His ankle is black and swollen, so on reflection, I might well have broken it while helping him through the gap. Shame.

  The six-inch nails that are hammered through his hands and feet have metal washers under the heads. I don’t want to risk him tearing them through his flesh as he struggles… and he’s going to struggle.

  Marshall begins to make noises and moves his head from side to side. I pick up a bottle of water and empty it onto his face.

  ‘Wakey-wakey.’ He raises his head and coughs against the gag rammed into his mouth, then open
s his eye and blinks. ‘Time to wake up.’ I tip the remainder of the water over him.

  Marshall tries to move and that’s when the pain surges through his body. He shrieks through the gag, his head flipping from side to side. He spots the nails and yells some more.

  That’s a good start.

  ‘Now? Are we going to kill him now?’ Jade is skipping around the room like she’s at a barn dance.

  ‘Patience, Jade, patience. This has been a long time coming, so we’re not going to rush.’

  Her face has that same look of eager expectation as she does on Christmas Eve. That childlike flush of excitement and joy.

  ‘Oooo, this is going to be sooo good.’ She clasps her hands together under her chin and does another little dance.

  Marshall blinks at me – Who the hell are you talking to?

  It galvanises him into more activity. Every move he makes is accompanied by gargled screams. I watch him writhe around, trying not to look too smug. I turn the ocular prosthesis around between my fingers, the blue-grey iris stares back at me.

  ‘You dropped this.’ My words galvanise him into more activity which is accompanied by more screams. ‘The less you struggle the less it will hurt,’ I say, going to the back wall and returning with a hand tool. ‘Don’t cause yourself any more pain than is necessary – that’s my job.’ I press the trigger and the sanding disc spins into action. The noise makes him go rigid, his head cranes forward to get a better view.

  ‘The guy in the shop was a hive of useful information. Apparently, the disc spins at 10,000 rpm and the Lithium-ion battery lasts forever. The best thing about this one is it also takes a wire brush head and a grinding wheel for those stubborn parts. It only cost me sixty quid. Bloody bargain I reckon.’ I hold the additional fittings up for him to see. ‘How about if we give the sander a go first.’

  ‘I love the noise that sander makes.’ Jade is positively squeaking.

  I kneel beside Marshall, his whole body quaking, then I straddle his stomach which causes him to arch upwards. The nails hold him firm.

  ‘Oh yes, and before we start, I forgot to tell you. The answer to the question was ten minutes and thirty seconds.’ He’s shaking his head from side to side. ‘That’s how long it took Natasha to bleed out and die. It was great fun watching her blood soak into your lovely carpet. She did make quite a mess.’

  The sandpaper disc tears into his nipple, shredding the skin into a bloody mess. He bucks and turns against my weight. I remove the tool to see a crimson arc of epidermis – the nipple and surrounding flesh are gone, now lying somewhere on the floor.

  Marshall is going berserk.

  ‘Fuck me, that’s boss,’ Jade yells, while cackling. ‘Do the other one. Go on, do it!’

  ‘Bloody hell, look at that. Took it clean off.’ I snap the lever and the wheel detaches. I replace it with the cup-shaped wire brush. ‘Let’s try this one.’

  ‘That’s one mean-looking fucker.’ Jade kneels next to me.

  I hold the tool up and buzz it a few times and the brush whizzes round. ‘I practiced with this one, and I can vouch for the fact it removed rust from metal.’

  I press the trigger and plunge it into the left side of his chest, bearing down on him with my full weight. Blood and tissue erupt into the air. I can feel the spatter of skin landing on my face and going in my mouth. I’m aware of a stream of water jetting off to the side as he loses control of his bladder.

  Marshall bucks and judders below me. His good eye rolls back in his head. I lift off and sit back. The brush head is dripping with blood.

  ‘Fucking hell look at that hole!’ Jade’s eyes are wild with excitement.

  ‘I should be wearing safety glasses for this one,’ I say, wiping the debris from my face and spitting on the floor.

  ‘Do his bollocks, Dad, do his bollocks!’

  Chapter 48

  ‘Cheers, mate, I really appreciate this.’ I swing up into the cab, tuck my rucksack behind the seat and bundle the kitbag into the footwell. ‘If you could drop me off anywhere near Birmingham that’d be great.’

  The lorry driver heaves himself up into his seat. The springs complain as his bulk crushes them flat. ‘That’s okay. Let me know where.’

  ‘I will. My name is Billy.’

  The cab smells of old socks and lavender air freshener and the dashboard rattles as the engine roars. The driver clears the newspapers away and tosses them into the back. The breaks hiss.

  ‘I’m Doug,’ he says, checking his mirrors.

  The beeping sound announces that we’re on our way. When we’re clear of the services Doug wastes no time and launches into a well-rehearsed speech telling me how shit the haulage business is and how he really wants to be a tree surgeon. The only qualification Doug has for this aspirational career move seems to be that he owns five chainsaws.

  I tune out and let him ramble on, in my head I’m back in the basement of the Bluebell Bottom.

  After two and a half hours Marshall’s heart gave out. At least, I reckon that’s what happened. Despite the floor being awash with blood and tissue, plus the occasional chunk of bone, I don’t think he bled to death. I had to change the sandpaper disc twice because it kept getting clogged up. In the end I settled for the wire brush and the grinder wheel. I think Jade’s favourite was definitely the wire brush – it flung shit everywhere.

  I’d flayed most of the skin from his body and had decided it was time for a little heat treatment. The blowtorch made him dance and jigger like a landed fish; then he had some kind of seizure and that was it – game over.

  I’d like to say I watched the life drain from his eye, but I was too busy making his flesh bubble. I missed that part. Jade was whooping and hollering, dancing around, waving her arms in the air. It was party time.

  I turned to tell her he was dead, but she was gone. The place was silent but for the hiss of the blowlamp. We’d had our fun; it was time for me to go.

  I left everything where it was and made my way back upstairs. The trapdoor opened up and a waft of cold air greeted me. I picked my way back through the park, taking care that no security had turned up while I’d been otherwise engaged, and arrived at the car. I looked like the scene from Carrie, the one where they tip the bucket of blood on her. I opened the boot and pulled out what I needed. In no time at all I was washed, towelled and wearing clean clothes.

  The other benefit of the Camelot theme park is its close proximity to the Welcome Break service station at Charnock Richard. After a short walk I’d crossed the pedestrianised walkway that runs over the M6 to the lorry park located on the southbound carriageway. Half an hour later, I had myself a lift.

  My time in the police had taught me that if you want to disappear there are certain things you must do: leave your credit cards and mobile phone at home, they are a beacon above your head; don’t draw money from your bank account once you’ve left; don’t contact friends or relatives because the authorities will be watching them, and avoid public transport.

  When the coppers smash down the front door to my flat they will find my wallet, cards and phone on the bedside table, and as for not contacting anyone – that’s easy – there is no one. Oh, and the bag lying at my feet will ensure I don’t need to touch the money in my account.

  I have to admit to suffering a pang of conscience when I was preparing to leave the flat for the final time. DI Kray seemed like a good copper and I didn’t want her chasing loose ends, so in my wallet is a note addressed to her.

  Roz,

  When we spoke, I omitted to tell you one thing: I killed the man in the alleyway. I slashed his throat with a knife. He was one of Marshall’s guys and I had to start somewhere. You’re a smart woman and you’ll figure the rest out for yourself. I didn’t want you to burn valuable resources trying to track down his killer.

  Take care.

  Billy.

  It seems only fair that I give her the heads-up.

  ‘So, what about you?’ Doug asks. I snap back to reality.
>
  ‘Oh, err, my wife threw me out.’

  ‘No way!’

  ‘Yeah, she had an affair with some twat at work and told me to pack my bags.’

  ‘Oh, man, that’s shit.’

  ‘I know. But that’s the way it works, right? If I have an affair, I get kicked out; if she has an affair, I get kicked out. It’s my bloody house as well as hers.’

  ‘I know, mate, it happened to my buddy. You should have stood your ground.’

  ‘I did and that’s when she called the cops. She told them I was going to hit her and they escorted me out of my own house. I protested and they threatened to arrest me.’

  ‘Typical, mate. Bloody typical.’

  ‘So anyway, I think to myself, bollocks to this, I’ve got friends in Birmingham. I’ll be better off with them.’

  ‘I’m hearing you, mate. I’ve been divorced now for six years. Best six years of my life, I’m telling you.’ Doug then proceeds to tell me in lurid detail exactly why they’ve been the best.

  Doug and I rabbit on as the miles clock by. This is new territory for me, I’m making up my backstory as I go. The lies and anecdotes trip off my tongue and he’s lapping it up. It’s as though I’ve never been away.

  I’m enjoying the new me. He seems a really interesting guy.

  I feel lighter, as though the weight of eighteen years has been lifted from my shoulders. I’ve no intention of going to Birmingham. I’m heading for a quiet place in Devon where I’ll lay low for a while, allow time for my hair and beard to grow and move on from there. I’m good at disappearing.

  At the back of my mind I wonder if I’ll ever see Jade again.

  Somehow, I think not.

  Chapter 49

  Two days later

  Kray nodded a hello to Norma Pettiford, who was guarding Mary Quade’s office. Kray wrinkled her nose – the place smelled of fresh paint.