by L M Krier
‘Or something from Game of Thrones?’ Martha suggested. ‘I’ve never seen it but my sister is completely hooked on it. It’s probably one of those daft things that belongs to some series or another which means nothing to any of us, but someone who’s really into it would know straight away. Star Wars, maybe.’
‘It’s not from Star Wars,’ Steve put in quickly. That was one of his specialist subjects.
‘Someone needs to talk to Warren’s father, please, Jo,’ Ted said. ‘Soonish. It’s just possible it’s some strange family tradition. I suspect many people have bizarre rituals they do in their own household which wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. Send someone round to see if it has any significance to the father.’
‘The four points could also be the old Catholic thing when you cross yourself,’ Jo suggested. ‘Spectacles, testicles, wallet, watch.’
‘Except Warren’s a recent convert to Catholicism,’ Ted pointed out.
‘Whereas Byrne was a lifelong practising Catholic,’ Jezza put in, still doggedly sticking to her theory that there was some connection, albeit tentative, between the two cases.
‘Suppose just for a moment that Warren really is innocent and was wrongfully convicted,’ she went on. ‘He’s not going to be able to tell you what the circle means, is he? I mean, you’ve said yourself the evidence is thin, boss, and he was only convicted on a majority verdict. What if they got it wrong? What if the original arsonist has been away – perhaps inside for something else – and now he’s back and doing exactly the same thing again because it’s his thing? And whoever it is could be trying to draw attention to the Catholic connection and the link between the cases. ’
‘How does that tally with your theory that our arsonist is trying to get my attention, personally?’ Ted asked her. ‘I thought you said that was to get the original conviction looked at with a view to getting Warren released?’
‘I hate the way you shoot down my best ideas with logic,’ Jezza grinned at him.
‘Are we doing any better with finding someone with a motive to kill Mr Byrne?’ Jo asked.
‘The people we spoke to at his workplace all seemed to think highly of him,’ Mike told them. ‘The management had no complaints about him. He was a good timekeeper, did his job well. Kept to himself a bit but everyone liked him well enough. Jezza found the same, talking to the production workers.’
Amelie was keeping quiet. Eric Morgan rightly deduced that she was worried about what she was going to have to say to the boss later on, and not wanting to draw attention to herself. He spoke up for her.
‘Amelie and me identified the little girl in the photo but the trail ran cold on us. Lucy Robson. Byrne’s next-door neighbour’s daughter. The mother was a drug addict and sadly died of an overdose. Byrne used to look after Lucy for her and they spent a lot of time in each other’s company. It seems as if it was innocent enough, too. When the social went in to take Lucy into care she was apparently very upset and wanted to stay with him. They couldn’t allow it, of course, because he wasn’t a relative or anything.
‘She went into a home and was there for three years. She left as soon as she was legally allowed to. She never said anything about Byrne to the staff there, in all that time, but then it seems she was very closed. Didn’t open up much about anything. There was certainly nothing on record to suggest that anything between them hadn’t been right.
‘She’ll be around twenty now and the social have no idea where she went. She could have moved away, got married, changed her name. Died, even. Anything. We don’t really have a lot to go on, but from what we’ve been told so far, there’s nothing to suggest she would have a motive for killing Byrne.
‘If it’s all right with you, Jo, we were thinking of visiting the home Lucy was in tomorrow. Seeing if there’s anyone there who remembers her and might know a bit more about her. Or if they can tell us who she was friendly with. Who she might have confided in.
‘We may be on a hiding to nothing and it’s possibly a dead-end trail, but in the absence of anything else so far, is it worth a shot?’
‘Well worth it, I would say,’ Ted said, looking to Jo, who agreed with him. ‘If Mr Byrne’s relationship with her was improper in any way, even if she never talked about it, it would certainly be a strong motive.’
‘Boss, I’d quite like to do some more digging into the cousin Mike and I spoke to. After all, it was her Byrne was trying to throw the firework at when it went wrong. There could possibly be some history between them. Maybe he’d done other stuff like it before.’
Mike was shaking his head. ‘I’m not buying that, Jezza. I’m not saying it’s not wrong to chuck a firework, but to go from that to torturing and killing someone is a huge leap. Besides, Byrne himself was badly injured. Wouldn’t that make her think he’d suffered enough?’
‘No one from outside ever knows what’s simmering underneath the lid when it comes to families,’ Jezza retorted. ‘We’ve not checked her out at all. We should at least do that.’
‘I agree, Jezza,’ Jo told her. ‘Have a quick dig into her background, see what it throws up.’
‘Boss, I keep thinking that because of the mutilation and torture aspect, there’s a definite sexual element to this,’ Martha said. ‘I’m not just thinking about chopping off his member. But removing the fingers while he was alive? That makes me think it could be a punishment for what he’d been doing with them. That he’d touched the wrong person, in the wrong way.’
Jo wound things up. People started to gather up their things, log off on their computers. Ted went to his office to get his briefcase. Eric Morgan followed him, Amelie trotting at his heels.
‘Have you got a minute, guv? Only Amelie wanted a word.’
Without being invited, Eric pulled the spare chair out and sat down, leaving Amelie standing in front of the boss’s desk as Ted took his seat. She hesitated. Eric indicated to her to get on with it.
‘Sir, I’m really sorry. It probably was me that made the mistake with the nail varnish bottle. I mean, I honestly don’t remember seeing it, but Virgil wouldn’t have made that mistake. I should have owned up straight away. I’m really sorry.’
‘Can’t remember seeing it, or didn’t see it?’ Ted asked, studying her hard. ‘Amelie, do you need glasses?’
She nodded miserably. ‘I’m supposed to wear them but I hate them. And I can’t get on with contact lenses.’
‘It’s an operational requirement, DC Foster. You must know that. You must have worn glasses for an eye test before you were accepted. If you need them, wear them. I shall expect to see you in them tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? You mean you’re not kicking me out?’
‘I’m short of officers. You’re an officer. Please act like one. Turn up tomorrow, wearing your glasses as and when you need them. That’ll be all.’
She hurried out of the office as Eric leaned back in his chair and laughed.
‘I told her you were a pussy cat. Silly vain kid. She’ll be all right, once she learns a few of the ground rules.’
Warren had been glued to the local television news at every opportunity he got. As well as reading the evening paper cover to cover and back again. He was trying to hide his mounting level of agitation. He didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to himself. Not now. Not while things were finally, slowly, starting to move in the direction he wanted them to.
This time his mopping rhythm changed even more. He was back to humming the full chorus. It contained one word which was repeated three times. On the third time, he banged the mop down, hard, viciously, before carrying on.
To make matters worse, the chaplain was late again. Much later than usual. Soon Warren was going to have to go. The patrolling officer had already looked in on him to see if he was nearly finished. But he needed to talk to the chaplain before he was escorted back to his cell. He needed everything to be exactly as he had planned it, before tomorrow.
Finally, the priest came hurrying into the chapel, flustered
, clearly out of breath. On the defensive. Apologising even before he reached where Warren was working.
‘William, please forgive me, I am so very sorry I’m late. I know you will have been waiting to speak to me.’
Warren’s eyes were steely. ‘I’m disappointed in you, padre. I have to say that. You promised to do one small thing for me, yesterday. And you haven’t done it. Have you?’
‘William, something came up yesterday. I was called to give last rites to one of my old parishioners. Her own parish priest was away and there was no one else available. She was asking for me. The family contacted me to say she had very little time left. What was I to do? I am deeply sorry. Tonight you will have my undivided attention, I promise you that. And I can only apologise, once more.’
‘It has to be tonight, then. No more excuses, padre. I have a very important visit tomorrow and everything has to be just right. Don’t let me down again. Because I’ve been talking some more to young Joey. He confides in me readily. And he’s in a fragile state of mind. You know he’s already on suicide watch. If I was concerned enough about him, I might have to talk to someone about those concerns.’
Chapter Seventeen
The muted buzzing of his phone on the side table woke Ted. As he reached out a hand for it, Adam, curled into a ball on his chest, stretched out one paw, claws unsheathed, in protest.
Ted lifted up the phone. The screen told him two things. It was five o’clock in the morning. And it was the station calling him.
He gently lifted the cat off himself as he slid out of bed, putting him down on the pillow he’d just vacated and heading out onto the landing as he answered.
‘Duty inspector, sir,’ Patel’s voice greeted him. ‘Sorry to wake you but I have a note that you’re to be informed personally of any suspected arsons on the patch. We’ve got an ongoing incident at an empty lock-up on the far side of town.’
He gave Ted the exact location before he went on, ‘Initial reports from the fire crew attending suggested it was kids messing about and things got out of hand. Then the Watch Commander called in to log it as suspicious. They’ve been told to update us on anything with a particular burn pattern, in case it’s linked to your case. He says it’s early days yet, they’ve only just got things under control. But he said he’s pretty sure it’s the same pattern.’
‘All right, thank you. I’m on my way up to Manchester this morning so I’ll look in myself. Are Uniform attending?’
‘They are, because of the early alert to another possible arson. We were hoping we might get lucky and find the perpetrator still in the vicinity, but nothing so far.’
‘Right, I’ll send a couple of my officers as well. We’ve no leads yet on this arsonist. It’s about time we made some progress.’
He called Jo, who clearly dropped his phone trying to answer. Ted assumed the string of Spanish words he heard were not complimentary.
‘Sorry to wake you, Jo, but I was woken by the duty inspector so I thought I’d share the honour. Our friendly neighbourhood arsonist at it again. Not yet confirmed but a definite probable. I’ll call in on my way up to the prison but I thought it might be profitable to send some of the team now, see if they can spot anything early on. Maybe the arsonist will be hanging around for once. It’s about time we got lucky on this one.’
He could hear Jo clattering about, a door opening and closing. He gave him the address of the incident and Jo gave an evil chuckle. ‘I’ve a good mind to wake Eric up and send him. Remind him that we don’t all have fixed shift patterns. But I’ll go myself, while I’m already awake. It saves me the ritual of family breakfast and attempting to get all the kids ready for school at the right time. I’ll give Jezza a bell. I’ll be going almost past her place. I believe she has a live-in babysitter these days, for her Tommy. Nathan’s pretty much a permanent fixture, isn’t he?’
‘He usually is, I believe. I might see you there if you’ve not wrapped things up and left by the time I arrive. I’ll call Mike and get him to brief the team. I’ll give him another hour or so yet. No sense in us all being awake at silly o’clock if we don’t have to be.’
Ted went back into the bedroom. He knew he probably wouldn’t go back to sleep now. It was just as well he had no such plans. Seemingly without waking, Trev had managed to spread even further across the bed than usual. Even Adam, curled up on the pillow, showed no signs of stirring a second time and relinquishing his spot. A definite case of no room at the inn.
Ted decided on another early morning run. A road run, this time. An hour or so steadily pounding the pavements of his neighbourhood could result in anything. It had been a relatively quiet area when Ted had first moved there with his parents. Recently, crime levels had gone up. As Kevin Turner had reminded his officers, burglary and car theft were sharply increasing. He might just spot something of interest at that time of day.
He ran for nearly an hour. He was just getting ready to turn up Lisburne Lane to head for home and a shower when he spotted an elderly woman in her front garden. It wasn’t warm but she was wearing only a nightie and slippers as she stood by the front gate, looking anxiously up and down the road.
When she saw Ted approach, slowing to a walk, wiping sweat from his face with the towel slung round his neck, she called out to him, ‘What day is it, love?’
‘It’s Thursday,’ he told her. ‘Are you all right? Are you waiting for someone?’
‘What day is it, love?’ she asked again.
‘Thursday,’ he repeated. ‘Is there someone with you?’
‘What time is it, love?’
Ted went closer to the gate, reaching for his mobile phone with one hand, his warrant card with the other. He couldn’t carry on his way and leave what was clearly a confused and vulnerable woman alone. He could already see that the nightdress was sodden. She was in need of some attention, especially if there was no one with her.
‘I’m a police officer. Do you need some help?’
‘What day is it, love?’
She didn’t seem alarmed as he opened the gate and took her as gently as he could by the arm.
‘My name’s Ted. Shall we go indoors? It’s a bit parky, isn’t it? Shall I put the kettle on for you?’
‘What time is it, love?’
‘It’s early yet. Come on, I’ll make you a brew.’
As he guided her towards the house, he dialled the station.
‘It’s DCI Darling. I’ve just found a confused elderly woman in a front garden near to Cherry Tree. No signs of anyone else present so far. I’ll need a unit with a female officer.’
The smell hit him as soon as he stepped over the threshold. The woman tottered off towards the back of the house. Ted still had his phone in his hand with the call connected.
‘I think there’s a death, too. Hang on, I’ll just check.’
He followed her into a small kitchen at the back of the house. A man was sitting in a chair by the kitchen table. He’d clearly been there for some time. The woman didn’t react to the smell, nor to the sight of the body. She turned to Ted and asked again, ‘What day is it, love?’
The unscheduled stop made Ted later than he’d intended before he set off for the scene of the latest arson. He’d stayed with the woman, made her tea, talking reassuringly to her, until the area car had arrived. He was pleased it was PC Susan Heap who was one of the first responders. She was the ideal person to handle the situation and arrange a place of safety for an elderly person as a matter of urgency. The woman had still not said anything other than repeatedly asking the day and time.
‘Do we have a name for her, sir?’
‘I’m not sure if she knows it herself, to be honest. The only things she’s said to me the whole time have been to ask me the day and the time. I haven’t started to look for post, pension books, or anything like that. I didn’t want to leave her alone. I imagine the deceased is probably her husband, although she doesn’t seem to acknowledge his presence, even. Perhaps he was her carer. She might not have had
anything to eat since he died, in that case, but I didn’t want to give her anything without knowing anything about her. I’ve made her a cup of tea, but that’s as much as I’ve done.’
‘We’ll take it from here, sir. What a good job it was you who found her. I imagine there’s some folk around who’d have taken advantage of the situation and come in to rob the place.’ She was looking round the gloomy and outdated interior as she spoke. ‘If there’s anything worth nicking.’
Ted spent a lot of time under the shower when he got back to the house, trying to get rid of the stench of death. He couldn’t decide if it was on him or if he just had the smell of it in his nostrils. He splashed on a bit more aftershave than usual, to be sure. An extra dollop, he found himself thinking. He wanted to know the significance of those additional splashes of fuel at the arson sites. Perhaps Warren might be persuaded to talk about them.
It was a different fire crew who were still on the scene when Ted arrived at the latest suspected arson scene. He found the Watch Commander talking to Jo.
‘What have we got?’
‘Boss, this is Brian. My boss, DCI Ted Darling. Too early to be sure of anything yet but distinct similarities to our other two fires.’
‘You’ll know already that we need to wait for the findings of the Investigation Officer, and he might well bring a dog in to work the scene. The details of the previous two fires have been circulated, of course, and I’m pretty sure we have the same circle pattern in there. Once again, it’s a concrete floor with no carpeting or tiling to distort the image. Lots of refuse lying about so it went up like a torch and ignited all the old timbers.’
‘Any signs yet of the starting method?’
Brian gave him what Ted’s father would have called an old-fashioned look. ‘Ted, we’re the fire service. For miracles, you need someone with their collar on back to front. It’s just possible the dog might find you something to show how it was started, but I can’t guarantee it.’
