by L M Krier
‘The interesting, and possibly significant thing about Duncan Dooley is that he’s six feet one. So he could well be described as tall. And we have an eyewitness account of a tall man near the scene of our second arson. We need to track down Duncan Dooley and interview him. Find out if he has an alibi. I’ve got his address so Jo, can you sort that for tomorrow, please?’
Warren was lying on his back on the bed in his cell. One arm was crooked across his eyes to shield them from light. One leg was bent, the foot on top of the bed, the other leg crossed over it. The foot on that side was tapping against the wall, any sound muffled by his sock.
Almost inaudibly, he was humming his refrain. Every time he reached the word repeated three times, the foot tapped harder, staccato. His whole body was stiff with barely suppressed anger.
He’d carefully tucked the migraine medication he’d been given under his tongue and spat it out into the toilet at the first opportunity. He didn’t want anything which would make him feel sleepy and clog his thinking processes. He needed a clear head to plan the way forward from here.
The spy hole in his door slid open and he heard a prison officer say, ‘Chaplain for you, Warren.’ Then, in an undertone which wasn’t lost on Warren, ‘You know this is highly irregular, chaplain, because of the risk of hostage-taking. I’ll have to leave the door open with the bolt shot.’
Warren removed his arm from his face and opened his eyes as the lanky figure of Father Archer bounced in, his face lined with concern.
‘I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you, William. I was just very concerned to hear you were having another of your nasty spells. I’ll go, if you’d prefer to be alone. But when I heard you’d been excused cleaning duties I realised how much you must be suffering. So I just wanted to come and see if there was anything I could do for you. Anything at all. You know you only have to ask.’
Warren took his arm away from his face. His clothing had left creases there. He turned his head slowly towards the chaplain. The grey eyes were darker than Archer had ever seen them. They looked almost black. He unconsciously took half a step back under their impact.
‘But I do ask you, padre. Repeatedly. You’re simply not delivering. I had a visit today from some cretinous police officer with so much aftershave on it gave me a crippling migraine. He asked idiotic questions but showed no signs of recognising my innocence or of reopening the case.
‘I can’t carry on like this. It’s affecting my health, as you know. It’s killing me.
‘You’re just going to have to do better, padre. A lot better. If not, you’re backing me into a corner and I shall have to take more drastic direct action.
‘And believe me, you don’t want to put me into that position.’
Chapter Twenty
‘Is it this one? Half the number’s missing off the door.’
Jezza and Mike Hallam were standing outside a terraced house, paint peeling off the front door which bore a single digit – the number two.
‘Logically, number twenty-eight should be between twenty-six and thirty, but you never know,’ Jezza grinned at Mike as she knocked on the door.
She knocked a few times before there was any sign of life inside. Neither Jezza nor Mike had any visible ID. But as soon as the door opened on a tall, thin man in his twenties, wearing nothing but a torn T-shirt and scruffy tracksuit bottoms, he clearly knew exactly what they were, if not who.
He tried to slam the door on them but Jezza was too quick, moving forward to block it with her shoulder as the man turned and bolted through the house.
‘Get the car and drive round the back,’ Jezza shouted as she sprinted out of the house in pursuit.
She could hear, but chose to ignore, Mike bellowing after her, ‘Risk assessment, DC Vine.’
The man she was chasing, presumably Duncan Dooley, as it was his address and the fleeing figure matched his photo on file, sped out through the back door, trying to slam it behind him. The small back garden was barely a few strides of his long legs, then he was hurdling over a low wooden gate and running up a narrow passageway.
He may have had the advantage of height and leg length but he was clearly not much of a runner. Jezza did a lot of it, whenever she could. She had the speed and the stamina. She’d easily outstripped Ted, a medium-paced distance runner, on the beach in Spain. She was determined, too. She may not yet have been closing on her quarry, but he wasn’t gaining any ground and she was dogging his every move.
Jezza had her phone out and was relaying to Mike the direction the pursuit was taking her in. She didn’t waste her time or her breath in responding to his increasingly irate orders to cease pursuit. She knew there was always the risk that Dooley would stop and face her and could be carrying a knife or another weapon. If that happened, she could either rely on her kickboxing skills, or she could put her sprinting to good use and leg it back the way she’d come.
At least, that’s what she was planning on telling the boss had been her risk assessment when he read her the riot act later on, as he no doubt would. Mike Hallam would be obliged to report her conduct, but she was sure she could talk her way out of any trouble it might bring her. Especially if she caught their possible suspect.
Luck and timing were both on her side. Dooley had made a few turns into other alleys and small streets. As he made to dash across a bigger road, he ran straight into the bonnet of Mike Hallam’s car, bounced off it and landed with a thud on the tarmac.
Jezza was on him in a flash. Holding him down carefully as she told him, ‘Duncan Dooley? DC Vine, DS Hallam. We only wanted a cosy chat. There was no need to run for it. Stay still for me while I check you for injuries. Does it hurt anywhere?’
He was panting for breath now. Jezza was barely winded. Mike was giving her daggers as he got out of the car to join the two of them.
‘Are you hurt, Mr Dooley? Do you need an ambulance?’ Mike asked him.
Jezza had done a recent first aid update and was busy putting it into practice, with a top to toe survey, asking the man questions as she worked.
‘We really did only want to talk to you, Duncan. Nothing more than that,’ she told him when she’d finished. ‘Are you all right now? Do you think you could stand up?’
‘Should we get him properly checked out first?’ Mike was erring on the side of caution.
‘He’s fine. Aren’t you, Duncan? Just a couple of minor scrapes from the road surface.’
Dooley was getting slowly to his feet. ‘What d’you want with me?’ he asked, with open hostility.
‘Come on, we’ll drive you home. Then you can make us a nice cup of tea and answer a few questions. You’re not being arrested or anything. We just want to talk to you.’
Jezza saw him into the back seat and sat next to him while Mike drove them back to the house. Dooley maintained a sullen silence. He let them into his home and went to close the back door, which was still standing wide open from his hasty exit. He showed no signs of offering them a brew. Not even a seat. Instead the three of them stood there in the kitchen, looking at one another.
‘What’s this about?’
Mike left Jezza to do the talking. He got his pocket book out to take notes.
‘Routine questions, nothing more. Where were you the Friday before last, in the early hours?’
‘Work. I work nights in a supermarket. Stocking shelves, mostly.’
‘What about last Wednesday? Evening, going up to midnight.’
‘Work.’
‘And yesterday? Early hours of the morning.’
‘Work. Whatever this is about, it weren’t me. I’ve got alibis for all those days. They fixed me up with a job, and this crappy flat, when I came out of prison. I don’t want to go back there so I turn up for work and do my job. We have to clock in and out and the supervisor checks up on us all the time. You can’t even go for a piss without him wanting to know where you are. You can ask him.’
‘You shared a prison cell with William Warren, didn’t you?’
�
�Yeah. So what? He was nice to me. Helped me to learn to read and write proper. That’s why I got a decent job when I come out. Never had one before, 'cos I couldn’t read well enough.’
‘And you visit Warren sometimes, since you’ve been released?’
‘Yeah, so what? Nothing wrong wi’ it. Couldn’t be, anyway. They watch us all the time, 'cos I’m an ex-con. Security cameras always locked on the table where I’m sat, and prison officers patrolling near us all the time, listening out. I’m not slippin’ him drugs or nothing. I just like to keep in touch. He was the first person who helped me with reading. Everyone else just told me I were thick.’
‘Do you wear a uniform for work, Duncan?’
‘Yeah. With the name of the store on.’
‘And how do you travel to and from work?’
‘Bus.’
‘Do you wear your uniform on your journeys? Do you ever walk through the streets with your uniform on?’
He narrowed his eyes at that question. ‘I put a jacket over it, mostly.’
‘And do you need to carry a bag with you for anything? Like a holdall, perhaps? Something like that. Maybe with a change of clothes in?’
‘I’m not on the rob, if that’s what you mean. I don’t nick stuff from work and bring it back here. There’d be no chance of that, anyway. Like I said, they watch us like hawks all the time.’
‘I never said you did, Duncan. I was just asking.’
‘No, I don’t. Have a bag. Anyway, that’s all I’m saying for now. I’ve answered your questions. I ain’t done nothing. Now I need to get some kip before work. And I could report the two of you. Chasing me like that and running me over. I could get compo or something.’
‘You weren’t exactly run over. You just ran out into the path of DS Hallam’s car and fell over. But please feel free to make a complaint if you want to, Duncan. Here’s my card with my details and a contact number. My senior officer is Detective Chief Inspector Darling. Give him a call at any time if you want to take this matter further, and thank you for your time and assistance.’
‘We’ll have to tell the boss,’ Mike warned her as they went back to the car. ‘Just to cover ourselves, in case Dooley does try to make waves. And you were bang out of order going after him on your own like that. Especially not listening to me when I ordered you to cease pursuit.’
‘Yes, sarge,’ Jezza told him with not a trace of remorse. ‘And I’ll talk to the boss, with pleasure. I know what a pussy cat he is really.’
‘Thank you, Mike, that’ll be all. Not you, DC Vine,’ Ted went on as Jezza made to follow Mike who hurried gratefully out of the office. It hadn’t looked to him as if the “pussy cat” had been purring, listening to what he and Jezza had had to report on their return to the office.
Jezza stood in front of Ted’s desk, giving him her most disarming smile. He remained unmoved. His voice was ominously quiet when he spoke.
‘Jezza, this was total recklessness on your part. You know perfectly well you should have called for back-up and not made a move until they arrived.’
‘I did a risk assessment, boss. There was a chance I wouldn’t even have caught up with him but I thought that if I could keep him in sight, I could at least guide DS Hallam as to the way he was going. And if he had stopped and pulled a knife, I thought I could probably kickbox it out of the way then run off. You know I’m a fast sprinter, boss. I outran you easily in Spain.’
‘It’s not the appropriate time for smart answers, DC Vine. What if the suspect had produced a firearm? Or if he’d been deliberately leading you towards friends who would back him and might well be armed? Your risk assessment was completely inadequate for the situation. You put yourself at risk, as well as DS Hallam, potentially. Not to mention possibly injuring someone who might well have been innocent of any crime.’
Jezza put her drama training to good use and tried to look as contrite as possible as she responded with, ‘Noted. Sorry, boss. It won’t happen again.’
‘It certainly won’t, Jezza. We’re at full stretch at the moment, as you well know. But as soon as there’s a lull, I’m going to refer you for further training in risk assessment and management. And that is non-negotiable. That’ll be all.’
‘That’s a bloody big gamble to take, Ted, with no guarantee of getting anywhere,’ Big Jim Baker complained when Ted put forward his idea about testing chainsaws and loppers for any traces of human remains. ‘It would make one hell of a hole in the budget, and might not produce a single solid lead. I think it might need to be a last resort option.’
Ted was talking to his two bosses at the end of the week, to bring them up to speed. He wanted everything to be neatly tied up, as far as possible, before he sloped off for two days away with Trev.
‘If we had a few more officers we might make better progress. We’re handling two biggish cases with the size of team we’d usually have for one.’
‘Cheeky bugger. You know what resources are like. You’ve got Maurice back soon so I was going to ask you who you wanted to let go, Martha or young Amelie.’
‘Neither of them,’ Ted said firmly. ‘Jim, we really are at full stretch. Is there no one else you can bring in, even for a few days?’
‘I have to say that I agree with Ted, Jim,’ the Ice Queen told him. ‘It’s not a lot of officers for these two cases. We’ll be starting to come under scrutiny soon for lack of progress. It’s a vicious circle. We all know that. Progress is unlikely without more personnel on the job.’
‘I suppose I could ask Leona Rakale if she could spare either Charlie Eccles or Graham Winters for a few days. Both of them are useful officers now, since you knocked them into shape a bit, Ted.’
‘What about Leona herself? She’s excellent.’
Jim snorted. ‘You’ve already got three DSs on the team. Four would be just taking the pi… taking the pee.’
Even Big Jim clearly felt obliged to moderate his language slightly in the Ice Queen’s regal presence. He said ‘bloody’ so often and so naturally he clearly no longer considered it as a swear word.
‘All right,’ he growled, ‘you can keep Martha and Amelie for now and I’ll see who Leona can spare for you. How’s the young lass shaping up, anyway?’
‘A shaky start, but Eric Morgan’s got her well and truly under his wing. We’ll make a proper copper of her yet. And at least she has the courage to own up to her mistakes.’
‘Ted, it’s this weekend you’re away, isn’t it?’ Debra Caldwell asked him. ‘Is Jo in charge in your absence?’
‘He is. I’ve told him I can be contacted if it’s urgent ...’
‘Nonsense. None of us is indispensable. He’s an experienced DI. I’ll make sure he knows he can call me if anything untoward happens. But there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have two days off occasionally.’
‘It’s a pound to a bloody penny that as soon as you swan off, we’ll get a towering inferno of a blaze plus a load more body parts strewn all over the patch,’ Big Jim said gloomily.
Trev was in the kitchen when Ted got home, not too late, as he’d promised. He was determined that Trev was going to get his full attention all weekend, even if some of it was to be spent watching his sister compete.
‘Supper’s nearly ready and I’ve already done our packing for the morning. I know it needs to be an early start to get down there in time for Eirian’s first class, so I thought I’d try to be organised.’
Ted stepped over the herd of cats and went to put his arms round his partner to pull him close. He saw Trev wince in evident pain and was immediately concerned.
‘Are you all right? Have you hurt yourself?’
Trev grinned ruefully. ‘This was my big idea to give you a surprise Valentine’s present. It hasn’t turned out quite like I hoped it would.’
Instead of his usual tight jeans he was wearing a loose pair of sweatpants. He half turned and gently pulled them partway down. Near the top of his left hip was a recent tattoo, looking red and angry. It was a heart with a bro
ad arrow diagonally through it and the word ‘Moondance’ across it.
‘I wanted to do something special. To show how much I appreciated you dancing with me in front of your whole team when I know how much you hate that sort of thing. I’d no idea it would hurt this much, though.’
‘A tattoo? You always said you didn’t like them. Is it meant to be this red? It’s not infected or anything, is it?’
‘It better not be. I went to a really posh place. Expensive. She’s given me some cream to put on it. I just thought it would be a romantic gesture. Do you hate it?’
‘No!’ Ted said, slightly too quickly. ‘It really was a lovely gesture. It puts my effort to shame. I was going to show you tomorrow, when we were having dinner together at the restaurant. But I’ll get it now. I’m always telling you I’ll make it up to you when I let you down – again – and this was my pathetic attempt to do that.’
He opened his briefcase, took out two folded A4 sheets of paper, put them down on the table and pulled the chair out for Trev to sit down. He did, and started to read. Then he looked up at Ted, his blue eyes shining in evident delight.
‘Trail riding in Corsica? Ted, this looks absolutely amazing! I’ve never been there.’
‘I got Océane to phone them for me to ask about it in French so I got all the info properly. They’ve got some quiet horses suitable for novices like me, and some better ones for experienced riders like you. It’s not luxury accommodation, though. It’s basic B&B, a couple of nights in hostels and one night under canvas next to a river. But I thought we could have a few days at the coast in a nice hotel afterwards. I haven’t booked it yet. I thought I’d check with you first, in case you don’t like the idea.’
‘Like it? Ted, I absolutely love it. It’s so kind and thoughtful. And at least halfway up a mountain in Corsica even you can’t be summoned back to the nick at short notice.’
Chapter Twenty-one
