The Autumn Tree (DI Bliss Book 8)

by Tony J. Forder

  On the way out, Ashton leaned down and said to Chandler, ‘So you’re his bag man, are you? That must be a tough task.’

  ‘Don’t you mean bag woman?’ Chandler said, smiling sweetly.

  Bliss snorted. ‘Bag lady, more like. Complete with a scrap of cardboard to sit on and a smelly dog by her side.’

  Chandler gave him one of her looks before turning to Ashton. ‘For your information, I’m nobody’s anything. I’m DS Chandler to you. Penny, if you’re around long enough to be accepted.’

  ‘And you’d be wise to take note,’ Bliss said, making his way past them. ‘Our Pen has a mighty right hook.’

  Ashton straightened to his full height. ‘Oh, I think I can handle one little ’un.’

  ‘Be it on your own head if you try, old son. I mean it. Many a jaw has foundered on the rocks of DS Chandler’s knuckles.’

  The Major Crimes squad room was empty when they got there, so the three huddled together around Chandler’s desk. Bliss had been thinking hard during their walk over, and he was now keen to explore a number of possibilities. ‘That agency Angie came up with rang a bell. I seem to recall EZEscorts being listed as one of Drake’s companies.’

  ‘Who is this Drake?’ Ashton asked.

  ‘He’s the local scumbag we arrested for trafficking after we rescued those girls from the transport container. I’m pretty sure that site is one of his, in which case I know where to pay them a visit.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Banged up in Belmarsh. We still want to nail the bastard for murder, but we did manage to get him for a number of other things. He’s appealing, of course. Using the system as you might expect.’

  ‘And meanwhile his organisation continues unaffected.’

  ‘Pretty much. Somebody obviously stepped up in his place, but we’re uncertain as to who. Mind you, he’s as powerful inside as he was out. The only thing he doesn’t have is his freedom.’

  ‘As you rightly pointed out, I’ve not been in the job long. Even so, I’ve encountered a few like him.’

  Bliss appraised the investigator. Ashton had angered him with his attitude when they met at the crime scene. He had shown his inexperience, coming across as cocky and more than a little condescending. Much as Bliss had been at his age.

  He decided to give the man a second chance.

  ‘You and I got off on the wrong foot, Glen,’ he said. ‘I suggest we put it behind us and work together. Your ERSOU systems and contacts could be a huge advantage to us if this is even close to what I suspect.’

  ‘What would that be?’

  ‘The two most likely paths to follow on this are that she either fell victim to a client who went too far, or that she got caught operating outside of the organisation and they decided to put a stop to it – permanently. I’m thinking the latter is the most likely.’

  Ashton considered that for a few seconds. ‘I’ll make a few calls. If DI Burton has sent me that image, I’ll forward it on and we’ll see if our victim is already in the system. I’ll also pull up anything we have on Drake’s operation here.’

  He left the room in a hurry just as Bishop and Ansari stepped back into it. ‘Blimey, he’s keen,’ Bishop said, jerking his head back towards the door.

  Chandler nodded. ‘He’s just a pup. Throw him a bone and off he scampers.’

  ‘He’s raw,’ Bliss said. ‘But then we all were, once.’

  ‘Difference is, we were aware of it,’ Ansari muttered, dropping into her chair with a groan. ‘He already thinks he knows it all.’

  ‘That’s the NCA for you. The moment they started comparing the agency to the FBI, it got people thinking about it differently. Including those who work for them.’

  ‘That include you, boss?’ Bishop asked. He grinned as he, too, took his seat.

  Bliss ignored the verbal slip; the fact that his colleague still thought of Bliss as his boss was only natural. But if he wanted to make the temporary step up a more permanent move, he would need to start showing everybody – Bliss included – that he was in charge.

  ‘I always hated the comparison,’ he admitted. ‘The NCA have to be able to move into any area in the country and work hand in hand with the locals without it resulting in any sort of pissing contest. Trying to rebrand them as the UK’s version of the Feebs can only decrease the chances of that. I’ve been there, seen it in action.’

  ‘That why you welcomed Ashton with such open arms?’ Chandler said, stifling a grin.

  Bliss glared at her. ‘Don’t even go there. You weren’t with us last night. He behaved like a dick. He gave it the big one and had bugger all to back it up. He may be one of those investigators who likes to think of himself as a Bureau man, and if that’s the case then I see it as my sworn duty to knock it out of him.’

  ‘Is that what they meant by tolerance back in your halcyon days?’

  ‘It had a different meaning. In this job you don’t need, or want, to merely tolerate people. You don’t even need to like them. But you do need to respect them. If someone steps out of line, they have to be taken down a peg or two.’

  ‘If anyone can do that, it’s you.’

  Bliss knew Chandler was baiting him. He decided to bite. ‘Bloody well right it is. If your colleagues act like tits, you have to call them on it. I did with you.’

  She squinted at him. ‘I never acted like a tit.’

  ‘True. You never had to act.’

  ‘Are you saying I was a tit?’

  He shrugged. ‘A bit of one. At times.’

  ‘So says the biggest tit of all.’

  ‘Any chance we can stop talking about tits? You’ll have me up on a sexual harassment charge next.’

  Chandler grinned. ‘I don’t think so. I reckon you’d enjoy it too much.’

  This brought a smile to his face. He winked. ‘You better believe it. Come on, let’s get to work.’

  Six

  The three-storey end-of-terrace house in Orton Malbourne was firmly on every Peterborough copper’s radar. The top two floors contained four bedrooms in total, which meant four working girls turning over punters day and night. The girls took time out and made snacks and refreshments on the ground floor, at the rear of which was an office dedicated to the running of this specific aspect of Lewis Drake’s organisation.

  Before knocking on the front door, Bliss issued a warning to Ashton. ‘If you get the urge to speak out while we’re inside, ignore it,’ he said. ‘I mean it. Pen and I know these people. These particular people, I mean. Remember, we’re here to learn something from them, not get in their faces.’

  Ashton raised both hands. ‘This is your show, Sergeant. But in my defence, I’m not quite as green as you make me out to be. I do know how to do this job.’

  Bliss arched his eyebrows. ‘We’ll see.’

  A human wrecking ball answered Bliss’s second knock. The man who filled the doorway was so tall and wide, Bliss thought they must have to remove the windows to hoist him in and out of the house. Not all of his bulk was muscle, but there was enough of it to intimidate beyond the sheer size of him. A shaved round head and sunken narrowed eyes were the icing on a daunting cake.

  ‘Afternoon, Igor,’ Bliss said pleasantly. The man’s real name was some Slavic collection of mismatched consonants, but Bliss had never managed to wrap his tongue around it. ‘We’d like a word with Nicola.’

  Igor fixed him with a piercing gaze that lasted longer than was comfortable. Bliss followed suit. It was like staring at the weathered, implacable face of an ancient gravestone. Finally, the doorman grunted something unintelligible and made his way back inside, leaving the front door wide open.

  ‘What was that?’ Ashton asked.

  ‘One FBU,’ Bliss replied, stepping up into the passage.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Fucking Big Unit.’

  ‘Believe me, you don’t want to know,’ Chandler said, following Bliss inside. ‘Be sure to get out of his way if you see him charging towards you.’

 
‘Was leaving the door open his way of inviting us in?’

  ‘Yes. That’s Igor being polite. That grunt you heard is him at his most gregarious.’

  Bliss remembered the layout. A galley kitchen stood to the right, opposite a lounge in which the girls often relaxed, watching TV or chatting in between clients. At the far end of the hall there was a toilet and shower room, and to its left the office. He entered without knocking, his colleagues close behind.

  A mature, inoffensive-looking woman by the name of Nicola Parkinson regarded them from behind an ostentatious solid oak desk. It was squat and sturdy, like a pit bull, and she looked almost lost behind it. With her short copper hair seeming to bracket her round cheekbones, Bliss was always struck by how cherubic she looked.

  As usual, the spell broke the moment the woman opened her mouth.

  ‘You cheese-rimmed bellends go around in threes these days, eh? I hope for her sake that you two strapping men team up on DS Chandler every chance you get. I’m betting she doesn’t get her oats any other way.’

  ‘Now now, you old trollop,’ Bliss said, casually propping himself up against the wall to his right. ‘That’s no way to speak about one of Peterborough’s fairest maidens. I told you last time what I’d do to you if you kept up those levels of abuse.’

  Parkinson tossed him a look of disdain. ‘Wash my mouth out with soap and water. Yeah, I remember. I dared you to go through with it, and you backed off. Like all you tossers do in the end. All mouth and no action.’

  ‘You’re showing your claws early today, Nicola,’ Chandler said, no inflection in her voice. ‘What’s up? Menopause? I hear women your age suffer badly when that hits. Or do you have unexpected staffing problems? You one down today, are you?’

  ‘What’s it to you?’ Parkinson shot back without taking her eyes off Bliss. ‘Go and put the kettle on, there’s a love. Let me and the boys have a natter.’

  Chandler remained where she was. Bliss eased himself away from the wall. The changeable weather conditions were playing havoc with his chronic illness. The Ménière’s disease affected his balance, and rapid fluctuations in the barometric pressure made his stability less predictable. The high squeal of tinnitus raged inside his head, its acuteness often a trigger warning of an impending vertigo attack. He wasn’t about to show this woman any sign of weakness, though. Not if he could help it.

  ‘Is that it, Nicola?’ he asked. ‘You got it all off your ample chest? If there are more insults you want to hurl, we can wait you out. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not. My visits here always seem to coincide with me feeling the need to scrub myself raw under a scalding hot shower.’

  ‘I could help you with that if you like,’ Parkinson said, with a wide grin that only accentuated his earlier impression of a cherub. ‘Unless DS Chandler objects. I wouldn’t want to trample all over her territory.’

  ‘Even my worst enemy wouldn’t wish that on me. So how about we cut out the crap and get down to business?’

  She heaved a long sigh and eased herself back into the chair. ‘If we must. But if you’re here to ask me any questions about our perfectly legit business, I’m going to need to call our solicitors first.’

  ‘I think we can avoid that,’ Bliss said. ‘We’re not here about your little knocking shop.’

  ‘Massage parlour.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do say so. And so will our brief if I have to make that call, Inspector.’

  Bliss decided not to correct her; they’d already wasted enough time. ‘Let’s move on. There’s no need for your brief.’

  ‘Fair enough. All the same…’ She picked her mobile up off the desk and tapped the screen. A few moments later, a young man entered the room. He was of no more than average stature, yet the room seemed a lot more crowded with a fifth person in it. ‘You remember my lad, Troy? He’ll be sitting in to witness what is and isn’t said.’

  Troy Parkinson said nothing. He moved to stand at the back of the room, eyes narrowed but taking everything in. Bliss gave him a courtesy nod, then turned back to the woman behind the desk.

  ‘We’re here about a young girl you might know, Nicola. Goes by the name of Honey.’

  Parkinson gave a long, exaggerated shrug. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’

  ‘Don’t play stupid games, you stroppy cow!’ Ashton snapped. His voice was loud and bounced off the walls. He took a step closer to the desk, looming over it. ‘She’s one of your girls. She’s on your fucking website. You know who she is, so stop dicking us around.’

  Parkinson’s gaze was icy as she shuddered theatrically. ‘Ooh, scary. I can see why you need that third wheel, Inspector Bliss.’

  Ashton’s face became a picture of twisted rage. He turned to Bliss, whose features told their own story. ‘That was useful, Glen. Thanks a million. But if you could go back to being mute, as we discussed, I’d treat it as a personal favour.’

  ‘What? So you’re happy being fucked about like this? By someone like her?’

  Bliss glanced at Parkinson Junior to make sure he wasn’t looking to get involved. He reeled in his temper before returning his gaze to Ashton. ‘Perhaps you and I have different ideas when it comes to remaining silent, Glen. We probably need a chat about that – afterwards. In the meantime, you need to understand that Nicola and I are simply going through the motions: I talk, she postures. We’re old foes. It’s how we do things. Let me emphasise that for you. It’s how we do things. Am I making myself clear?’

  The NCA investigator was clearly infuriated. He rubbed a hand across his mouth before turning away towards the window. Bliss took a beat to compose himself. Then he switched his attention to Parkinson once again. ‘Sorry about that, Nicola. Can’t get the staff these days. Which reminds me… where were you with remembering our girl, Honey?’

  She stared him down before teasing out a sigh. ‘I think I know the name. Not sure about the girl. What did she do? Get caught hooking? If that’s the case, we’ll fire her immediately.’

  ‘No. Afraid not. Sorry. She got caught being dead. Strangled to death, to be precise. Sometime yesterday. Found her body way out at the chalk pits outside Cambridge. Any idea why she would be over there?’

  ‘If she’s one of our escorts, she might have been with a client.’

  ‘That was precisely our line of thinking. I was hoping you could tell us who, where, and when.’

  Parkinson tightened her gaze. A smile teased her lips. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. You know I can’t give out confidential information relating to our clients, Inspector. Not unless you have one of those pesky warrants.’

  Bliss played along. ‘I know you’re not supposed to, Nicola. And we both care about you and your legit business being squeaky clean. All I’m saying is, couldn’t you help us out this one time? We’re not looking to throw the cuffs on anyone. We’re talking about a murdered young woman, most likely one of your own. Surely you can bend the rules a little bit to help us out.’

  ‘Sorry. No can do. If I bent the rules for you, I’d have to do it for everyone who needed a favour. It wouldn’t be right.’

  So far he’d been happy to go along to get along, but her flippancy was getting under Bliss’s skin. ‘Not right? Being murdered isn’t right, either. Even a hard-faced cow like you can see that, surely? How about this: you bring her records up on screen, then take yourself off to the loo for five minutes. Your lad can step out, too, if he likes. That sound any better?’

  Parkinson put her head back as if considering his suggestion, but after a moment or two she slowly shook it. ‘Nope. I can’t risk it. You know how it is.’

  ‘For crying out loud!’ Ashton snapped, swivelling hard and squeezing his fists tight. ‘This is fucking ridiculous! I’ve never heard anything like it before. Arrest this bitch and throw her into a holding cell. Don’t let her walk all over you. It’s embarrassing.’

  This time Bliss didn’t have to wade in. Instead, Chandler moved to stand between Ashton and Nicola. ‘Shut the fuck up, G
len! In fact, get the fuck out.’ She pointed towards the door. ‘Go on. Go! Go and sit in the car. Play with some crayons or something. Whatever pleases your tiny mind. Just fuck off out of here.’

  Ashton stared down at her with round, wide eyes. ‘You can’t be serious. Are you yanking my chain?’

  ‘Don’t talk so daft. I wouldn’t yank your chain if it was the last one on earth.’

  Bliss laughed. He couldn’t help himself; Chandler in full flow was an impressive sight. ‘I’d do as she says if I were you, Glen. You’d be better off feeding your balls into a bacon slicer than taking on our Penny when she’s in this frame of mind.’

  A seething coil of fury, Glen Ashton stormed out of the office. Seconds later, the house reverberated to the sound of the front door slamming.

  ‘He doesn’t play nicely with others, does he?’ Parkinson said. ‘I take it he’s not one of yours, Inspector?’

  ‘NCA,’ Bliss said, as if that explained everything.

  She nodded as if it did, too. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted trip,’ she said. ‘I’m also sorry to hear about Honey. I genuinely don’t know her. She’s not one of our low-rent girls, otherwise she’d have been in and out of here a time or two.’

  ‘You’re sorry, but you won’t tell us anything?’ Chandler said, unable to hide her disgust.

  ‘I can’t.’ Parkinson sat up straight, as if commanding an office of respect. ‘You had to have known that coming in.’

  Bliss caught his partner’s eye and gave her the nod to continue. He liked it when a flame was lit beneath her.

  Chandler gave it some thought. ‘All right,’ she said eventually. ‘I know we’re not going to get a client’s name from you. But there is something you can give us – something that means I won’t have to send in our clean-up crew to hassle you and the girls for the next five nights in a row.’

  ‘I’m listening,’ Parkinson said.