The Autumn Tree (DI Bliss Book 8)

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘You’re right,’ he admitted eventually. ‘I have been distracted. I’ve always allowed my job to spill over into my personal life, but not usually the other way around. I can’t be effective if I allow that to happen. I need to be able to think straight.’

  ‘Good. I’m pleased to hear you admit it. I miss old Jimmy.’

  Bliss sighed. ‘Old Jimmy has moved on to become ancient Jimmy. At least, that’s how it feels. Defunct. Soon to be put out to pasture.’

  Chandler huffed at him. ‘So that’s what’s bothering you. You’re still thinking about the end.’

  ‘I’ve seen the future, Pen. And it’s pretty bleak. I was thinking about our Lingchi case back in the summer. Specifically, my poor attempt at chasing down our suspect, which ended with me falling arse over tit on the ground by the railway track.’

  ‘You didn’t fall; you dived to grab hold of him.’

  ‘And missed.’

  She scoffed at that. ‘Not entirely. You grabbed hold of his foot. His shoe even flew off, remember?’

  ‘Terrific. That counts as one of my great arrests of all time: a fucking shoe. I might as well become a cobbler. Then there was the humiliation of watching Gul, who started off twenty yards behind me, actually managing to collar our man.’

  ‘You slowed him down, Jimmy. If you hadn’t, he might well have got away. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself because retirement is drawing closer. You need to snap out of it. There’s a good few months before we get there. A good many cases. You’re no use to us at this moment if you’re too busy with the future.’

  Bliss regarded his friend thoughtfully. ‘When did you become so wise? Has to have something to do with my influence. Stands to reason.’

  ‘I was astute long before you showed up. A case of having to be. But you don’t need the likes of me telling you what’s what. Get your head out of your arse and back in the investigation.’

  ‘Is that any way to talk to a senior officer?’

  Chandler switched her grin to stun. ‘But you’re not. Not at the moment. We’re equal rank. Which means I can talk to you any way I like. You better not forget that, old man.’

  ‘Balls! I knew you’d have the last laugh.’

  ‘You should have taken better care of me while you had the chance. Now we’re on an even footing, and I have a bloody long memory.’

  Bliss huffed. ‘Yeah. You and every other woman I’ve ever met.’

  She threw him a doubtful look. ‘You spoken to Sandra since we got this case?’

  Sandra Bannister was a reporter for the Peterborough Telegraph, which ran crime features both online and in its print edition. Bannister was the senior of a two-person partnership. She and Bliss had come close to dating, but he’d pulled away at the last minute. Their relationship since then had been ambiguous, with neither truly getting to grips with how to balance their professional association with what might have been. In truth, Bliss was not allowed to discuss investigations with the journalist, but she had provided useful information in the past and would do so again. This time, however, he had additional news for his partner.

  ‘No. I expect to hear from her today if I don’t call her asking for info. However, she did give me a bell last week. You remember that book she wrote on the Burnout case from 2005?’

  ‘You mean the one you starred in and yet somehow managed to emerge without a stain on your dubious character?’

  ‘That’s the one, yes. Well, she’s approached me with a proposition.’

  ‘The bitch! Does Em know?’

  He smiled. ‘Behave yourself. No, she has two ideas in mind. She’s considering writing a novel, and wants to use me as a consultant. She also told me that if I ever decide to write an autobiography, she wants to be offered first refusal on ghost-writing it.’

  ‘Ooh, get you! You’d be better off going with JK Rowling, though. I reckon your life story would come out about as factual as Harry Potter.’

  Bliss frowned, feigning hurt. ‘Why d’you say that?’

  ‘Because there’s no way you’re going to sit there for hour after hour talking about yourself. Jimmy Bliss banging on about Jimmy Bliss? Honestly, does that sound like you?’

  ‘Not especially. Plus, there’s too much I couldn’t say.’

  ‘And too much you wouldn’t want to say. Without either of those, what are you left with?’

  She had a point. ‘Okay. The consulting doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though. That can’t get me into too much trouble.’

  Chandler sighed and shook her head.

  ‘What?’ he said, shrugging.

  ‘Have you met you, Jimmy?’

  Ten

  ‘Bloody hell!’ was the first thing Bliss said when they reached the crime scene. The taped-off area had shrunk, but the tent was still in place despite the body having been removed long ago.

  ‘What is it?’ Chandler said, looking around in alarm.

  He shook his head and smiled. ‘Oh, nothing. I noticed the tree by the forensic tent the other night. I couldn’t make it out properly in the LED lights. Seeing it in daylight… it’s breathtaking.’

  Though the season had taken its natural toll, there remained a significant number of leaves on the tree. In the pale early morning light, set against a watery blue sky, the warmth of its vivid creamy yellow colour held Bliss captive.

  ‘It’s a field maple,’ he told his colleague. ‘Normally they’re green and red, but come this time of year they change to this. I only know them because they’re related to the acer family. I thought about getting one in my garden, but the mature ones were too pricey.’

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Chandler said absently. Bliss knew she did not share his affection for certain plants and trees. ‘Looks a bit like one of those pot plants you have.’

  He nodded. ‘The autumn moon. It’s what I opted for when I decided against the tree.’

  ‘You think our victim being either killed or dumped here means something? The tree does stand out from the others.’

  ‘I’m not sure if there’s a ritualistic note to it. Trees do feature in mythology in relation to death; I think the cypress is most closely associated with it, though. As for the maple, it’s popular in Celtic mythology, and also thought to repel demons and evil spirits. But I don’t think one murder victim being found close to a maple tree establishes a pattern.’

  Two uniforms had been left to protect and preserve the radically reduced crime scene. And to make sure nobody stripped down the tent and made off with it, Bliss thought, as he wandered over to the closest of them. He introduced himself and asked if the officer knew the area well or lived locally.

  ‘Couldn’t be more so,’ the young constable replied, after giving him her name. ‘I live in Cherry Hinton. I come over here all the time with my kids, and to walk the dog.’

  ‘Perfect. My oppo and I were talking about the tree. That maple standing alone, over by the tent. We were wondering if there might be any significance attached to the body being left almost beneath it. Do you happen to know if there’s anything special about that one? Does it have a colloquial name? Any history you know of?’

  Constable Stevens bit her lip before shaking her head. ‘I don’t think so, sir. Not that I’ve heard. Not regards any history, at least. We’ve always called it The Autumn Tree. It seems to be the first to turn but the last to shed its leaves.’

  ‘Yeah, maples do cling on. So nothing noteworthy otherwise?’

  ‘Sorry, sir. No.’

  Bliss shrugged. ‘Not to worry. It seemed a little off to me, her being dumped right there. It’s quite a distance from the path.’

  The young constable seemed surprised. ‘I think we assumed the victim had been murdered right here, sir. Like you say, it’s a fair old hike from the closest spot to park a vehicle. It seemed logical to us that she walked here with her killer. Are you certain that’s not the case?’

  He wondered how much to reveal, thinking about what might get back to DI Kennedy. But PC Stevens was keen, not conte
nt with kicking her heels and looking to keep warm. ‘Not certain,’ he admitted. ‘Just one of the theories we’re looking into. We’ll know more after the PM.’

  ‘We heard Peterborough had taken over the investigation. Personally, I don’t care who has it, provided they find the bastard responsible. If she was a prostitute, she must have known the risks, but she didn’t deserve that.’

  ‘Nobody does. And we’ll do our best to find her killer. Rest assured, I’ll bust a gut the same way I would if she were royalty.’

  PC Stevens appeared placated. It wasn’t a great deal of fun manning cordons, and the majority of her time would be spent in thoughtful solitude. Bliss was delighted by her attitude of not caring who got the arrest, as long as somebody did. Clearly she was focussed and keen on a successful outcome.

  ‘If you hear anything relevant about the tree, please do get in touch,’ he said. Ironically, he had not brought any business cards with him. He motioned for Chandler to join them and asked her to hand Stevens one of hers. Bliss’s phone rang at that moment, and he walked away, leaving the two to chat.

  He was unsurprised to see Sandra Bannister’s name on the screen; she’d be looking for an angle all of her own. ‘I’ve got nothing for you,’ he said in place of a greeting. ‘It’s too early.’

  ‘So, you confirm you and your unit are working the murder at the chalk pits?’

  Bliss smiled to himself. This was one he could let her have. ‘I can confirm that, yes. But that’s all you’re getting out of me.’

  ‘Oh? Only I also heard ERSOU were involved.’

  He wondered how she had acquired that snippet of information. ‘Did you? That’s interesting. I don’t suppose you’d like to give me your source?’

  ‘You know what, I think I will. Just for old times’ sake. It’s all extremely hush-hush, but… the NCA have it on the news page of their website.’

  She didn’t have to laugh; he could hear the amusement in her voice. ‘Oh, how droll. Okay, so… Yes, we have an ERSOU investigator working with us. We’ll see which way this blows before knowing if they’ll attach more to it.’

  ‘You’re looking at an OC connection, though.’

  ‘Looking at. Don’t know for sure.’

  ‘You’re being extremely guarded today, Jimmy. Is someone listening in?’

  Bliss raised his eyebrows. ‘Isn’t that a good question these days? But let’s assume not. No, I’m with Pen, but she can’t overhear. The fact is, we’re working hard to prevent Cambridge taking this back off us. The crime scene is on their patch and there’s a DI Kennedy champing at the bit, waiting to snatch this case out of my hands. I can tell you this much: ERSOU are liaising because the victim is an escort and therefore possibly trafficked. So, yes, there’s a potential organised crime connection, as you suggested. If our investigation leads us to conclude that she was killed by a punter, it goes to Kennedy. If it has anything to do with her employers, we get to keep it.’

  ‘And your money is on…?’

  ‘Too soon to call. I suspect it will stay with us, but I should know much more by this time tomorrow.’

  ‘Does that mean “Get off the phone, Sandra, and wind your neck in”?’

  He laughed. ‘You can read me like a book.’

  ‘Which reminds me. Have you given any thought to our previous discussion?’

  He winced at his careless remark, having not intended to encourage her further. He liked the fact that they were on friendly terms again, but he did not enjoy being backed into a corner. ‘I have. I’ll let you know for sure as soon as I’ve made up my mind. But I have to tell you that I’m leaning more towards the consultancy angle.’

  ‘Okay. If that’s what you prefer. I’ll give you some more time to think about it. In the meantime, I’ll get back to you later today to see if there have been any developments in the case.’

  ‘Don’t waste your breath,’ Bliss told her, realising as soon as he had said it that he had wasted his own. Bannister could sense something brewing, and she was not about to let it go.

  He and Chandler said goodbye to PC Stevens and started heading back towards the Ford Focus. Their route forced them to climb a steep rise, eventually working their way through knee-high grass as they skirted the chalky surfaces below. The largest pit, to the east, had not been quarried in almost forty years. At almost thirteen hectares, the site had long been established as a Site of Special Scientific Interest, and therefore protected land for conservation.

  ‘It’s quite something,’ Chandler said, casting her gaze out over the desolate-looking scrubland.

  Bliss grunted. ‘I think you’d probably need to be a botanist or a rambler to truly appreciate the beauty of the place. To tell you the truth, it doesn’t hold a great deal of interest for me.’

  ‘Except for your maple tree. Don’t forget that.’

  He stopped walking and turned to look back the way they had come. Peering through some dense gorse, he was still able to see it. From this angle it did not stand out at all, but he would take away with him the first sight of it. There appeared to be no legend attached to the tree, but in that moment Bliss had felt its presence deep inside and knew he would find it difficult to let go of the memory.

  Eleven

  The news from Glen Ashton and ERSOU was good. Their facial recognition software had thrown up three potential identities, one with a 98% probability rating. He quickly explained that after he’d forwarded the original photograph to his office in Bedford, it was scanned and enhanced at the same time. The software transformed the image into digital data by applying an algorithm, and the data was subsequently compared with records previously captured in its database. The fact that the system had spat out more than one result told them it wasn’t infallible, but he was confident they had their girl.

  Unlike Bliss, who continued to rely on whiteboards, markers and hard copy, Ashton had commandeered the e-board and brought up the NCA photo on the screen via his phone, courtesy of a Bluetooth connection. He arranged the NCA image alongside an official crime scene photograph. Satisfied, he turned to the group.

  ‘They’re the same,’ he said proudly. ‘We have the victim in our system.’

  Bliss studied each image in turn. He struggled to tell the two faces apart, but the clincher was a small mole above the left eyebrow that could be seen clearly in both photos. He exchanged nods with Chandler and Bishop. ‘So who is she?’

  For a moment, Ashton looked as if somebody had stuck a pin in him to let the air out of his lungs. He moved from a state of pure elation to one of dejection in the blink of an eye. Hands resting on his hips, he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, but we don’t have an answer to that.’

  ‘What?’ Bishop unfolded his arms and drew himself upright from the desk he’d been perched on. It was like watching a flower bloom in super-fast motion. ‘You have her in your system but you don’t have a name for her? How’s that even possible?’

  ‘Oh, no. We do have an ID. Larmina Nuri is the name she gave us, only it’s not her real one. Let me fill you in. She was never brought in or questioned as a suspect, only interviewed as a witness. Evidently, our investigators suspected her but didn’t have nearly enough on her at the time. They eventually managed to speak to her in connection with an escort ring for especially young girls, and we secured surveillance photos of her at the time. But she was in our hands for less than an hour, half of which was spent going through the motions. At that point, a rather expensive solicitor arrived on her behalf, and we were unable to detain her further. Our investigation continued, which is how we discovered that the name and contact details she provided us with were false.’

  ‘So after all that we’re no further ahead than we were before,’ Chandler said, following a sigh that bordered on a groan of disappointment. ‘The only ID we have on our victim is fake.’

  Ashton seemed to reinflate. ‘That’s not quite right. It’s true to say that we learned nothing from her directly. But like I mentioned before, we looked into her in greate
r detail afterwards. Using the same techniques your own DI Burton uses, we scoured the internet for her face. We got many hits. Several, you’ll be interested to hear, were associated with your man, Lewis Drake – his business interests, at least. But she was also on the books of at least one other agency, and most likely worked as an independent, too. We may not have her real name, but we did set up an operation to get closer to her. Earlier this year, in fact. One of our investigators booked a massage service using the contact details provided right there in her genuinely independent profile. Which means we have both her mobile number and the address she gave him. Which is right here in the city.’

  Bishop pumped both fists. ‘Yes! That’s what I call progress.’

  ‘Is it in Woodston?’ Chandler asked. ‘Her address?’

  ‘No. Bretton. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Her agency address lists her as living in Woodston. But that address is most likely connected to Lewis Drake. This one is new to us. Intelligence we didn’t have before.’

  A hubbub of excitement spread around the room. It was a sound Bliss enjoyed hearing, and seeing wide smiles on the faces of colleagues was immensely gratifying. He did, however, have a follow-up question. ‘This solicitor who represented our victim. Do you know who sent him?’

  Ashton shook his head. ‘No. But he was from Fraser and Gooch. A Cambridge-based firm.’

  Bliss felt his lips twist in disappointment. Unless Lewis Drake’s organisation had switched solicitors or added to their legal roster, the representation of their victim had nothing to do with the man or his operation.

  ‘No matter,’ Bishop said, rubbing his hands together and taking charge. ‘We’ll follow up on that. First thing we need to crack on with is our victim’s phone and address.’ He turned to DC Ansari, who sat alongside fellow detective constables Hunt and Gratton. ‘Gul. I want you to do the honours tracking down her mobile provider and pulling all the records we can lay our hands on.’