Black by Rose

by Andrew Barrett

  “How come you got all the injuries?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno. I kind of fell forward when I heard the shot, like a reaction. Dinked myself on some rocks and thorn bush things. Just plain old lucky, I guess.”

  Benson laughed, “Prick.”

  “I also shit my pants. But I’d like that to stay between us.”

  “Is anyone going to tell me about this bastard bug?”

  Benson sat next to Cooper. “I knew there was someone inside working with Crosby, and I wanted to find—”

  “You didn’t think running it by me would be useful? Or courteous?”

  “Girls, please.”

  “I tried to plant one myself,” Benson continued, “but I failed and he was the perfect candidate—”

  “Oh, the perfect candidate. Forgot that I was brave there for a second.”

  “You weren’t brave, you arsehole, you were angry! And that’s how I knew you’d get inside.”

  “I got inside ’cos I drove my car through the fucking gates!”

  Cooper put his head in his hands. “Do you two have any idea how far over the line you both went? We have strict rules on covert surveillance.”

  “Like Jagger said to me yesterday morning, you have to play very dirty with these bastards. Play by the rules and you might as well walk away, for all the use it does. You don’t start making headway with these pricks unless you take chances.”

  “Chances—”

  “And I made some serious headway, Cooper, and don’t you forget it. Who told you Westmoreland was your mole, eh? Who saw her tampering with evidence?”

  “What evidence?”

  “You’re asking me,” said Eddie, “when I’ve been out of it for—”

  “We don’t know what she’s messed with yet,” Benson said, “But it confirms what you said about the semen sample going missing from the stores at Blake’s first rape, don’t you think? Remember her outside the court that day, when she went and spoke with him on the steps?”

  “Where’s the proof?”

  “Getting inside the stores is a piece of piss,” Eddie sipped his coffee and winced at the pain in his lips.

  They stared at him.

  “It’s almost never manned; I guess he goes off for a lie down somewhere, or he’s playing with Miss Moneypenny under the receptionist’s desk.” He smiled but they just stared at him. He sighed, “When I went to Tony’s house, I needed the keys from the stores. I knocked and buzzed and there was no one around, so I climbed over the counter and helped myself. She’ll have done the same with whatever it is you’re talking about.”

  Cooper and Benson looked at each other. “Is there CCTV in there?”

  “Yup,” said Eddie. “I waved at it on my way out.” And then he looked at Benson, “Hold on, you said you knew there was someone on the inside?”

  Benson nodded.

  “So you’ll have kept my death close to your chest then?”

  “Damned right. If we’d blabbed you were alive, it’d put Jagger in danger from Crosby, and our mole would’ve done a runner pretty fucking swift; and then—”

  “No one knows I’m alive?”

  “Are you deaf?”

  “You haven’t even told Ros?”

  * * *

  Lisa Westmoreland topped up Ros’s glass with fresh water and carried it to her. She looked very pale, shockingly so, and she was crying constantly, saying things like, “I’m being punished for doing this to him.”

  No one could get any sense out of her. Eventually Lisa looked across to Melanie and asked her to take her home.

  “I’m staying here!” she screamed.

  “Whoa,” Lisa said, squatting down beside her, “you’re in shock, Ros. You need to be home in bed.”

  “I’m not going home.” She looked at her, “Please, don’t send me home.”

  Lisa thought about it. “Ten minutes,” she said. “If you’re no better in ten minutes, then I will send you home; I have your health and safety to consider.”

  Ros looked down at the carpet, and cried quietly to herself.

  Lisa pulled Jeffery to one side and asked, “Do you think we should call an ambulance?”

  He shook his head. “That was fine, I think. We’ll see how she is in ten minutes. If she’s no better, Melanie can run her home.” Lisa was about to turn and head off when Jeffery added, “I think you should look at the lab results.”

  “What lab results?”

  He walked with her to Melanie’s desk, picked up the sheet and handed it to her. “Eddie went to Tony’s scene and found a red stain on the bedroom carpet. Well out of the ordinary for such a clean house.”

  She scanned the report, “It says no human nuclear DNA present.”

  “I know. It wasn’t human blood.”

  “Stupid man—”

  “No, no, he’s not. Take a look at his report,” he pointed to the screen on Melanie’s desk. “See, he tested it at the scene using a KM kit, so it’s definitely blood; then he tested it again with Hexagon OBTI, so it was definitely human blood.”

  She looked at him, confused.

  “The lab have cocked up,” he concluded. “It’s the only thing I can think of.”

  “So that’s that, then. Unless we can trace their error, that blood is lost?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “And we can’t revisit the scene?”

  “No point; we always swab all the stain.”

  Inside, Lisa was jubilant. It had worked wonderfully, and it kept Tyler out of jail. And with Tyler kept out of jail, Slade would be happy, and if Slade was happy, then Sophie would be out of the way in the morning, she was sure of it. Her mood had lifted considerably, and she could think of nothing more enjoyable than contacting Slade right now and giving him the good news.

  “But we do have some good news,” Jeffery said, bringing the lab report back into view.

  Just then Ros threw up all over the carpet, and all over Melanie.

  And this time there was no discussion and no protesting from Ros. She looked very sad but also resigned. When Melanie came back from cleaning herself up, Ros surrendered and walked out of the office, still in tears.

  Lisa was marching towards her office when she stopped dead at the side of James’s desk. On it were colour photographs of some woman. Dead. But that wasn’t the reason she stopped and stared at them, leafing through them as though they were shots from a glossy magazine. “Jeffery?”

  Jeffery came over, the lab report still in his hand.

  “See these?”

  “Angela Charles’s photos for the coroner. What about them?”

  “The flash. See the eyes?”

  “What am I looking at?”

  “The flash, see. Why isn’t there red-eye? Every time—”

  “Ah no. You don’t get red-eye from a corpse.”

  “What? What’s that supposed to mean? Explain it!”

  Jeffery took a pace backwards, surprised obviously by the fire in her voice. “It means that when you die, the retina isn’t so blood-rich anymore, not so fresh or full of oxygen. When light hits a living eye, there are massive amounts of blood vessels all full of rich pumping blood and that reflects the flash back.”

  “But not in a dead person?”

  “No.”

  “Ever?”

  “It’s never happened to me before. The eyes need a heavy supply of blood, and when the heart stops…”

  “How long after death before the retina loses the ability to reflect flash light?”

  “I’ve no idea really,” he said. “But not long, less than a minute I should think.”

  She took a long breath, and the pictures in her hand began to shake. “Where are Cooper and Benson, do you know?”

  “Erm, at Tony Lambert’s funeral I think.”

  She dropped the photos and headed for her office.

  “What about the lab report?”

  Within seconds, Lisa Westmoreland had collected her keys and her coat and was on her way to the e
xit, eyes focused entirely on the doors, jowls bouncing with each hurried step.

  “Lisa, it’s good news on here!”

  She stopped at the doorway, and slowly turned around. She stared at Jeffery.

  Jeffery licked his dry lips, suddenly nervous.

  And then she walked back to him. She snatched the report and read with ever-widening eyes the result from the blood stain on the tree branch: exhibit EC8. She looked at Jeffery in shock, and then in ever deepening thought. “Copy this for me.”

  * * *

  “So what happened to Jagger?” Eddie asked.

  “Nothing happened to him. He took a picture of you after you hit your head, and sent it to Crosby as proof you’d been killed.”

  “But what about Gillon, how did he explain his death?”

  “Says you wrestled his gun from him and killed him first and then he killed you.”

  Eddie raised his eyebrows, “Smart kid.”

  “Lucky for you he’s on the ball. And he got you to Harrogate hospital quick enough.”

  “So where is he now?”

  “Back in the loving bosom of Slade Crosby.”

  “I don’t know how they do it, undercover cops I mean.”

  “Special breed,” Benson said.

  “Changed your tune, you said—”

  “I know what I said; but they have to play by the rules these days. Jagger did well considering the constraints we supposedly put on him; I respect him. But he agrees with me; you have to grab these bastards by the balls and pull as hard as fuck. They should be taken down using whatever means we can find.”

  “No, using whatever means is fair by law,” Cooper said.

  “Fair?”

  And then Cooper’s phone rang. He took it out and looked at the display; it said ‘Office’. “Hello?”

  “It’s Jeffery, can you speak?”

  “Yes, go ahead.” He pressed some buttons and then said, “You’re on speaker.”

  “Got the lab results back from Eddie’s swab at Tony’s scene.”

  “Go on, spit it out, Jeff.”

  “There must have been a mix up because it’s coming back as no human DNA in the sample.”

  “What!” Eddie almost fell off his chair.

  “In English.”

  “Erm, it’s not blood.”

  “How can it not be blood?”

  “Either the lab messed up or Eddie messed up. But his report is thorough; his sample tested positive for human blood.”

  “That was definitely blood!” Eddie screamed. “That’s what evidence Lisa Westmoreland was fixing at Slade Crosby’s house!”

  From the phone, Jeffery said, “Who’s that? Cooper, who’s there with you?”

  “Benson and Eddie Collins.”

  “What? What do you mean Eddie’s with you?”

  “I’ll explain later.” Cooper ran a hand down his whiskered face and said, “So we still don’t know who killed Tony Lambert?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “I have the feeling that’s not all. You have some more news?”

  “I sent off a swab Eddie collected from the tree branch overlooking Blake Crosby’s body.”

  Eddie ranted in the background, “She’s not getting away with this.”

  “Why would you do that? You said it would belong to Angela Charles, right?” Cooper looked up to see Eddie shrugging a jacket on.

  “No, it doesn’t belong to Angela Charles.”

  “Just a minute, Jeffery,” Cooper looked at Eddie. “Where the hell are you going?”

  “Run me into work.”

  “Wait, wait, no one’s running—”

  “I said run me into fucking work.” And then he reached the front door, “Forget it, I’ll drive myself. Lock the door when you leave.”

  “Christ’s sake!” Cooper looked at Benson, “Stop him, man!” And then into the phone, “I’ll call you back.” He hung up and chased Benson to the front door.

  * * *

  Lisa Westmoreland was so eager to break free of the MCU building that she took the passenger wing mirror off her car against the gatepost. She was screaming at the fucking thing to open quicker. Once outside, she got a mile away before pulling over and dialling Slade Crosby. Her hands were shaking, her stomach ached and her head was spinning.

  “It’s me,” she said. She added a shaking voice to her list of troubles this afternoon.

  “What’s up?”

  “We have to meet urgently: they’re on to me and I have to get away quickly and I have to tell you—”

  “Whoa, whoa, slow down!”

  Lisa breathed deeply, tried to make her heart slow down. She stared at the traffic flying past, feeling its wake rock the car gently. “I need your help,” was how she chose to begin. “I need cash, twenty grand should be enough.”

  “Twenty grand? Where the fuck do you—”

  “Please, Slade! You don’t have to help, I know, but… please. They’re on to me.” Silence from her phone. “And, I have some very important news for you too.”

  “News? Like what?”

  Her mouth was dry, she swallowed but all she got was a clack. “Will you help me?”

  “Is this about that Sophie woman? Because I’ve said we’ll deal with her tomorr—”

  “No, no, forget her; this is much more urgent.”

  “How do you know they’re on to you?”

  “Meet me. Please.”

  “Okay. Behind The Magic Carousel. Twenty minutes.”

  “Thanks—”

  “This had better not be a trap, woman. And make sure you’re not followed.”

  * * *

  Slade hung up and then looked at the phone as though it were going to do some tricks. Across the room, Tyler shook out the newspaper and stared at his dad.

  “What was all that about?”

  “Fucked if I know. Where’s Monty?”

  “Dunno. He left about an hour ago. Bookie’s I expect.”

  Slade made it to his feet, grabbed his stick and said, “Go get twenty grand from the safe.”

  * * *

  Slade was in the car park of The Magic Carousel in fifteen minutes. He’d already completed two circuits of the surrounding lanes, and he made sure Tyler parked facing the exit, and when Lisa’s car pulled up alongside, he made Tyler get out and check her boot, her back seat and then go stand at the roadside, thirty yards away. He was cautious under all circumstances, was Slade, but this kind of thing was verging on extreme. And though he would have liked another six men taking care of security right now, he had no one. They were out collecting, or out pissing it up, or like Monty, at the bookies.

  He looked at Lisa through the side windows of both their cars, and when Tyler nodded, he beckoned her to sit next to him.

  “What’s so urgent?”

  “Did you bring the money?”

  He studied her face, and could see real anxiety on it. Her eyes flicked around like she was on speed, never still, never trusting. Whatever was bothering her, it was real, not a trick. Slade pressed the glove box button and took out an Asda bag. “Twenty grand,” he said, handing it over.

  “Thank you.” She had tears in her eyes.

  “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

  “They’re on to me—”

  “You said that already. How do you know they’re onto you?”

  “The red-eye. The photo your man took of Eddie Collins?”

  “What about it?”

  “Apparently dead people don’t have red-eye.” She looked at him, square on.

  Slade studied her for a moment before reaching inside his jacket for his gun.

  Lisa immediately raised her hands and began crying. “I’m not lying,” she sobbed, “it’s true; that’s how I found out they knew about me. They kept it from me, they said he was dead, that they’d found his car and two graves. But he’s alive!”

  Slade was quiet for a moment, and then he put the gun away. “That means Jagger’s in on it. That means he’s a fucking copper.”
>
  She nodded.

  “And you didn’t know?”

  “No! No one knows who they are, except Crime Division. I swear, Slade. When I checked him out for you, he was kosher.”

  “Bastard!” He smashed a fist into the dashboard, and glared at her. “If you’re fucking me about, I swear I’ll mutilate you.”

  The tear fell, and she mumbled, “I’m not. Honest.”

  “So that’s why you’re not bothered about the Sophie woman?”

  “I’ll be long gone before she calls for her money.”

  Slade sat still in thought for a moment, cheeks throbbing as he ground his teeth, eyes like slits as he planned Jagger’s execution. “Go. Leave me alone.”

  She opened the door wide, and then hesitantly took a folded sheet of paper from her jacket.

  “What’s that?”

  “This is the news I have for you.” She looked worried. “I have nothing to gain from this, so it’s up to you if you believe it or not.”

  He snatched the paper, then turned to her. “What is it?”

  “It’s a lab report from a blood stain.”

  Slade shook his head, “I have no idea what you’re—”

  “This is the name I promised you; the one responsible for Blake’s death. He was killed by a rock thrown from a tree.”

  “What?” And then he half-laughed, like a snort. “That’s like a kid’s way of killing. I always thought he woulda been shot.”

  “We found blood on the branch where the murderer sat.”

  Slade unfolded the piece of paper and squinted, trying to make sense of all the numbers, and the names, and the processes it mentioned.

  Tentatively, Lisa reached over, and pointed to the line that said, “No nuclear DNA detected. That’s the results from the swab of Tyler’s blood on Lambert’s bedroom carpet. Remember, I said I’d fix it?”

  “Yeah, so you fixed it. So what else am I looking at?”

  “I just wanted you to know that you can trust me; that I did my bit.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I see that!”

  “Below it is Exhibit EC8, the blood Collins swabbed from the tree branch…”

  Slade’s eyes followed the row that began with Exhibit EC8, followed by the date, the time, the place. Then came the lab process used to extract DNA. Then came the result as a number. That number was converted to a Nominal index number. The Nominal index number equated to ‘CROSBY, Tyler Michael’. He read it through again, and then he read it through one last time before looking at Lisa with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.