The Autumn Tree (DI Bliss Book 8)

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘Good. Do that for me, please. See if you can get me an answer by the time I get back from visiting dear Nicola P.’

  The DC gave a mock shudder. ‘Rather you than me. That woman makes my flesh crawl.’

  Bliss nodded. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’

  He gave the exhibits back to Carolyn Miller and chivvied up Chandler. Trapped inside his sergeant’s car as they headed over to Orton Malbourne, he was at her mercy and expecting a grilling. Which was precisely what he got.

  ‘So where did you disappear to earlier?’

  ‘I had something personal to attend to.’

  ‘A meeting?’

  He flashed a sidelong glance. ‘Personal. You did hear that bit, yes?’

  ‘You and I don’t keep secrets from each other, Jimmy.’

  ‘Yes we do. Of course we do.’

  ‘Only the deeply personal stuff. You didn’t say that.’

  She kept it up all the way there, and despite his heart sinking at the thought of another verbal sparring match with Parkinson, he was glad when they arrived at their destination.

  Igor must have been running an errand or having a day off, because another man opened the door to them this time. The regular doorman’s replacement was equally tall, but nowhere near as wide. Nevertheless, he looked mean and fit and capable of virtually anything. His bushy beard looked capable of sustaining nests and shelter for all manner of woodland creatures. After showing them into the office, the man stepped out again – all without uttering a single word.

  ‘I suppose you call that one Fritz,’ Bliss said.

  ‘Why Fritz?’ Parkinson asked, playing along from the same chair behind the same desk.

  ‘It’s a popular misconception that Frankenstein’s lab assistant was called Igor. His name was actually Fritz.’

  ‘Which is also a popular misconception. In Shelley’s original book, the doctor had no lab assistant. He only appeared in the first films.’

  Bliss pursed his lips. ‘I bow to your greater knowledge. How do you know that, by the way?’

  ‘I read.’

  ‘Mary Shelley?’

  ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘That you can read at all, yes. That you know Mary Shelley blows my mind.’

  Parkinson offered up a mock kiss. ‘Speaking of blowing your mind, can one of my girls be of service to you today, Inspector?’

  ‘How about you, Nicola? You ever turn yourself out these days? Some mutton for the young lambs going to slaughter.’

  This time she laughed. Harshened by habits including cigarettes and alcohol, it sounded as if it got caught up between her ribs. ‘Only on special occasions. For special people. You never know – your own Chief Constable might be one of them.’

  ‘That would surprise me. The way I hear it, he’d be happier with Fritz or Igor.’

  Behind them, Chandler puffed out her exasperation. ‘Will you two put a lid on it, please? Jimmy, do us both a favour and ask her what you came here to ask. This place makes me feel itchy.’

  ‘You can get a cream for that, DS Chandler,’ Parkinson said. ‘I hear it stops all types of irritating cu–’

  ‘I think my colleague is right, Nicola. We haven’t got all day to bandy words around with the likes of you. As pleasant a thought as that might be.’

  Parkinson summoned her son into the room. When he joined them, he was accompanied by a young blonde woman; they looked so similar, Bliss guessed they were siblings. He thought back to his encounter with the landlord, and Beaumont’s description of the woman who’d been in charge of the three men cleaning out the victim’s flat.

  Parkinson had been casually swivelling from side to side in her chair behind the oak desk. Now she stopped and leaned forward, clasping her hands together and resting them in her lap. ‘Now the gang’s all here, ask away. I’m not saying you’ll like the two-word response, but I won’t stop you trying.’

  Bliss put away his thought about the young blonde behind him. ‘Your cooperation is all I ask, Nicola. You know the score otherwise. In fact, if you’re straight with me, we can get this over with in double quick time.’

  She batted her eyelashes at him. ‘I reckon everything you do is over in double quick time. You don’t look built for stamina. Not to worry. I’m all yours, Inspector. Have your way with me.’

  Bliss snorted. ‘Not in this or any other lifetime. Tell me, Nicola: over the past few months, has your agency given any specific warning to your girls not to try going independent?’

  She leaned back, pondering the question for a few seconds, and examined her nails before replying. ‘They already know that would be a terrible mistake. We tell them precisely who they work for and with. Indies are not welcome, and those who stray are cut off.’

  ‘In what way do you mean?’

  ‘Don’t go getting your knickers in a twist, Inspector. When I say they are cut off, I mean they get slung out of their flats and they lose our services and protection. They’re on their own.’

  There was that grin of hers again. Bliss wanted to slap it off her face. He had a mental image of a cartoon he’d once seen in which Daffy Duck was dealt a right-hander, resulting in his bill circling his head several times. He wondered if he could generate enough energy to do that with Parkinson’s smug grin.

  ‘Are they also on the receiving end of a clump or two as they’re being thrown out?’ he asked.

  She shrugged. ‘I’m never there, so I wouldn’t know. If they get mouthy then our people might get handy. But we are talking about just a bit of a hiding. Nothing more than that.’

  ‘And there were no recent, precise warnings? Possibly that matters could be taken further if any of them persist?’

  ‘Our girls don’t get the opportunity to persist. There’s no “three strikes and you’re out” bollocks here. If we find out they’re doing business on the side, they’re gone. End of. Simples.’

  ‘And does it still happen anyway?’ Chandler asked.

  ‘Occasionally. But not with your victim, if that’s what you’re trying to suggest. I asked around. She knew the score and never gave us any cause to suspect she might be playing away from home. Sadly, some of these girls ain’t got the brains they were born with.’

  ‘Maybe that’s because some of them are little more than children.’

  Parkinson’s mouth formed an ‘O’. She put a hand to her chest and feigned shock. ‘Detective Sergeant Chandler, whatever do you mean? All our girls are of age. They are also free to come and go as they please. If they stay, all we ask is that they abide by the rules. Most choose to stay. Those that don’t… fuck ‘em. Easily replaced.’

  ‘What, another container coming in from some port, Nicola?’

  ‘I have no idea what you mean. If you’re referring to the ordeal you’re putting poor Mr Drake through, I think you’ll find he’ll be free soon enough to explain the error of your ways to your face.’

  ‘What kind of woman are you?’ Chandler barely managed to whisper. She turned to glance at Troy and the blonde, standing quietly in the corner of the room. ‘What kind of mother?’

  But the likes of Parkinson thrived on such hostility. ‘The kind of woman men want to fuck and women want to change places with, love. Don’t sneer down your nose at me, you rabid twunt! I live the life I choose. Nobody forces me to do anything I don’t want to do. I realise you think you’re better than me, DS Chandler, but yours is one sad, lonely tart’s opinion that I couldn’t give a flying fuck about.’

  Bliss put himself between the two women, hoping to take the sting out of the situation. ‘You stick to your story, Nicola. You ignore the fact that young girls were and probably still are being trafficked into this country so’s they can have their bodies sold for them on a daily basis by scum like you. If you think that makes you special somehow, I reckon that confirms everything we’ve always thought about you. But now you’ve insulted my partner here, I’ve decided I’m done being nice to you.’

  Parkinson rose to her feet and folde
d her arms slowly and deliberately. ‘Is that right? And what exactly does that mean?’

  ‘How many girls do you have here at the moment?’

  Smirk. ‘No comment.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll make a call. After which I’ll hang around until some of my fellow police officers arrive in one of those bright yellow and blue motors. They will inspect every inch of this place, and they will interview every person caught inside the building. I’m not sure on what grounds yet, but I’ll think of something before your brief arrives. And when they’re done, they might even spend some time parked up outside. That’ll be your business done for the day, Nicola. Oh, and I’ll order the same thing for tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…’

  ‘All right, all right. I get the picture. How about I apologise?’

  ‘Stick your apology,’ Bliss snapped back. ‘Most of the time I can choke down what goes on here, because I don’t even think about you or your sordid little enterprise when I don’t have to. People like you are the shit on my shoe. But every so often I feel the need to wipe that shit off. So now you and I have a problem.’

  Parkinson did not appear in the least bit perturbed. ‘Are you sure that’s how you want this to go? Mr Drake might be banged up, but he still has a big reach. He won’t like you coming for him a second time, Inspector.’

  ‘That sounded like a threat.’ He turned to look at Chandler. ‘Did that sound like a threat to you, Detective Sergeant?’

  ‘It did,’ she replied quickly.

  ‘I don’t make threats,’ Parkinson said. ‘All I’m doing is telling you how it is.’

  Bliss sniffed. Looked her up and down. He could see how she might attract men looking for MILFs, though she was growing ever closer to being a GILF. To him, however, she was pure poison in subhuman form. ‘I don’t care. Besides, it’s Detective Sergeant Bliss to you these days, Nicola. And the reason I’m a DS at the moment is because I’ve about reached the point where I don’t give a damn any more. My thirty-year detective’s pension is secure enough, so now I’m that man you were always taught to fear: the one who literally has fuck all to lose.’

  ‘I’ll advise Mr Drake accordingly.’ She brushed back a strand of hair and glared at him, spite leaking from her eyes.

  ‘Good. And you’re on notice as well, love. If I have a problem with him, I have a problem with you. You and this place. You and the agencies you’re involved with. Pretty soon, things turn around and it’s you who becomes the problem, and therefore the reason for Drake’s problems. I know you’re not scared of me, Nicola. But consider what he might be willing to do to pull a big ugly thorn out of his side.’

  Parkinson licked her lips. She could not disguise the shudder that rippled through her body. She swallowed and said, ‘Now who’s the one making threats?’

  Bliss’s smile froze in place. ‘Wrong. Because, like you said: I’m only telling you how it is.’

  The room fell silent. He glanced over his shoulder. Troy Parkinson’s tight stare was so steely it might have cut him in two. Bliss lifted his head. ‘What, you have nothing to say? You not going to leap in to defend your mummy? Is that because you’re shitting yourself, or because you know everything I said is true?’

  ‘He doesn’t involve himself in my business,’ Nicola said sharply, striding quickly around the desk. A raised finger pointed directly at Bliss. ‘And he’s learned to say fuck all to the likes of you. He’s just here to witness what’s said and done in this room; that’s it. You leave him out of this.’

  Bliss continued his lingering appraisal of her son. ‘That right, Troy? You’re just another pulse in the room? Observing? You proud of her, are you? Proud of the way she exploits young girls? Proud of good old Mum who has sexual slaves on the go night and day?’

  ‘I said leave him be!’

  This time the woman’s voice was a shrill cry. Bliss turned to rest his gaze on her once more. She had taken a step closer to him. In response, Chandler had taken a step closer to her. ‘Touched a nerve there, have I, Nicola? Troy’s a mummy’s boy, is he? Is that why he’s hanging around lately? I mean, if he has bugger all to do with the business, I have to wonder why he’s available to stand there like a spare dick at an orgy listening to you trying to defend yourself and what you are.’

  Those pouty lips of hers were thinned and almost white with rage. ‘I think it’s time you left.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re going. Before the sickness in the air here seeps into our bones.’ Bliss turned to leave, then paused and said, ‘By the way, do you fancy telling me who stepped in to fill the void when your boss got banged up? I’ve just realised I might have been talking to the monkey when I should’ve gone to the organ grinder.’

  Parkinson responded with a laugh, which in turn caused her to cough: a hacking, wheezing sound. When she’d recovered, she said, ‘Jesus! You really are bloody old, aren’t you? Almost as ancient as those sayings of yours.’

  Bliss angled his head. ‘Is it you, Nicola? We know Drake kept his family out of it, and for good reason. So they needed someone expendable to shepherd the sheep. A figurehead to play at being the boss. Perhaps that person is you.’

  Arms refolded, the woman’s fingers began to tap against her own ribs. ‘You never know. And you never will. You got lucky before; Mr Drake is not about to let that happen again.’

  ‘Yeah. I think it is you. I can see all that ambition burning in those haggard old eyes of yours.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You haven’t got a fucking clue, you useless fucking pig!’

  Bliss tutted. ‘That’s no way to talk to an officer of the law. I’d threaten to drag you to the nick in cuffs, only I suspect you’d enjoy it too much.’

  ‘That’s your problem, filth. You have no idea what enjoyment is these days. I bet you haven’t truly enjoyed yourself since you lost that pig wife of yours – Hazel, was it? Way I hear it, she was murdered by the bloke she was fucking… that had to hurt. I do hope so. I hope it hurts you every time you take a breath.’

  Bliss did not rise to the provocation. She had tried a similar tack before, and it hadn’t worked then, either. She was little more than a virus, and his many confrontations with her had led to him building up an immunity against her particularly virulent strain. Instead he grinned. ‘Nice try. You’re deflecting. I can tell. I struck a nerve when I mentioned you running the show these days. I know it’s you, Nicola. I didn’t before, but I do now.’

  ‘Prove it.’ The demand emerged in a loud snarl.

  Bliss nodded and continued on his way out of the door. ‘I might do that. Either way… we’ll be seeing you.’

  Fifteen

  The evening briefing dissolved into a mood of vocal enthusiasm. Bliss took the opportunity to inform the team about the conversation he’d had with DS Bishop earlier in the day, by which point everybody with something to report had already said their piece.

  DC Hunt, who had attended the post mortem with Phil Gratton, revealed little more than they had already surmised for themselves: death by manual strangulation, with clear indications of fingers being placed around their victim’s neck, the thumbs pressing into her throat. Evidence of petechial haemorrhaging had also been noted in her eyes. Time of death had been narrowed down: Nancy Drinkwater confirmed the victim had been dead for no longer than eight hours by the time she was found. That set TOD at no earlier than 2.30am on Tuesday.

  Further investigation had been carried out into their victim’s background. No birth records or National Insurance number were found. Checks with the NHS had also come back negative. Immigration revealed no record of a Majidah Rassooli having entered the country, even on a student visa. She had not applied for asylum status, either. Her presence in the UK was about as illegal as it got, and had almost certainly arisen against her will. This confirmation immediately brought Bliss’s attention back to Lewis Drake.

  There were other traffickers – plenty of them, in fact. But this poor girl being on the books of one of Drake
’s escort agencies was no coincidence, to Bliss’s mind. They’d brought her into the country having either abducted her themselves or paid a pittance for her. After cleaning her up and feeding her a few decent warm meals, she was put to work for them. That was her life when she was murdered.

  Bliss mentioned this when it came to his turn. He said it as much for Glen Ashton’s sake as anything, believing he’d be reporting back to DI Kennedy later that same evening. ‘Penny and I will continue to work together with ERSOU to gather as much information as we can, but we do have to accept and understand how limited our scope will be. While none of us are dismissing the lone punter as killer theory entirely, I suggest the clean-up of her flat afterwards is key… I think Penny and I met Parkinson’s daughter, by the way. What’s interesting about her is that she matches the description Beaumont gave us of the young blonde who was running the show that day.’

  Bishop was keen to pursue that angle, and decided it would be good to establish communication between all parties during that entire period. ‘Where are we on our victim’s phone?’ he asked.

  ‘Phones, plural,’ Ansari reminded him. ‘So… the number attached to the web page we believe to have been controlled by one of two agencies comes back to a batch purchased for cash roughly two years ago. Twenty of them were bought at King’s Cross station, all on the EE network, all prepaid pay-as-you-go. None of them, as far as we can tell, are still using the SIM card they came with. The other phone is much more interesting. A Wiley Fox device, bought on eBay, SIM free. That has to be her own phone, the one she used for her private clients. We’ve submitted a RIPA request to cover both devices.’

  ‘Didn’t we find a few Wiley Fox mobiles using EncroChat earlier in the year?’ DC Gratton asked. ‘Mainly by that drugs gang we helped bust.’

  ‘You’re bang on,’ Bliss told him. ‘But we’re not seeing any connection between the two.’