by L M Krier
‘We need to speak to her as soon as possible,’ Jo reiterated. ‘If she’s not going to come to us, we’ll have to go and find her. Virgil, can you check with the council if she’s contracted for any more work for them? If so we’ll track her down that way. And at the same time ask them if they have any black birch trees, or if they know where any grow.
‘And I agree with the boss. We really need to find out about this Cyane. Amelie, you’ve made a good start but we need to widen the net.’
‘If she’s as ill as that, we could check GPs’ lists. Maybe even the hospitals,’ Jezza suggested. ‘Her details must be recorded somewhere, with someone. What sort of age is she? Any signs of children about the place? If there are any, we could also check local schools to see if she’s known there.’
Amelie looked at Ted to see who should answer that. When he nodded to her, she said, ‘No children’s clothes amongst the washing and no toys anywhere about. Age-wise I found it hard to tell because of her appearance. But I’d put her somewhere around early twenties. Sir?’
‘I agree with you. Very hard to be sure, but I’d say that was a fair estimate. Although something about her made me think she could be younger than she looks.’
‘Guv, I’ve made a bit of progress about Byrne and Lucy Robson today,’ Eric Morgan began. ‘Following on from talking to the priests yesterday, who told us seven shades of bugger all, I did a bit more digging round his old area. Where he was living when he was involved with Lucy. And according to a near neighbour, she did try to find him, not long after she went into the home.
‘She turned up on his doorstep one day, after school, hammering and shouting through the letterbox. Only he’d moved away. Did a bit of a moonlit flit, the neighbour said, without leaving a forwarding address. She said little Lucy was absolutely distraught. She took her in and comforted her, then when her other half got home from work, he drove her back to the home. She made him drop her off a couple of streets away and leave her, so they didn’t know where she’d been or why.
‘It took all my considerable charms, plus a few cups of tea,’ the sergeant winked at Amelie as he said that, ‘to get her to tell me what she clearly knew.
‘It turns out that Byrne had a visit from two pillars of the Union of Catholic Mothers. Not long after Lucy’s first communion. You know the type. All folded arms and lips pursed in disapproval. I ran them down eventually, with the neighbour’s help. Or one of them, at least. Blood from a stone might have been easier, but eventually she told me there had been,’ he made exaggerated quotation marks in the air, ‘concerns about the closeness of his relationship with Lucy. They hadn’t approved of the first communion dress he bought her, or the way he’d had her hair done. They didn’t like how she was so clearly besotted with him, and so on.’
‘Genuine concerns, d’you think, or just mean-spirited, interfering old biddies?’ Martha asked him.
‘Interesting question, especially as one of them was called Biddy. Whether or not they were right, they certainly put the fear of god into Byrne. He seems to have packed up and moved on in days. Without leaving a forwarding address. So when Lucy came looking for him – and let’s face it, that does tend to suggest their concerns were justified – he’d moved on and the trail had gone cold.’
‘Thanks, sarge, that’s helpful. See what else you can dig up for us, please.
‘Now, onto our arsons. Professor Nelson is going to do the PM on our fire victim tomorrow morning early, so I’ll take that one.’
He saw Amelie’s face fall at that news so he told her, ‘When the Professor says early, Amelie, she means six o’clock and not one second after. And you’d need to be back here by nine as I’m sure Jo has plenty for you to be getting on with. But if you want to come, and you understand that no one is ever late for the Professor, you can do.
‘So, any updates?’
‘Boss, Steve and me went to see Duncan Dooley, and to check up on his alibis,’ Maurice told him.
‘I bet you made Steve drive so you could get some kip, bonny lad,’ Jezza teased him.
‘Aye, and why not? I need some chance to catch up. Anyway, we checked his clocking in and out times and we spoke to the management. Seems pretty certain that he couldn’t slip away during a shift for more than five minutes without someone noticing. So then we went to see the lad himself.’
He looked across at Jezza as he spoke again. ‘I don’t think you’re getting a card from him this Christmas, bonny lass. We had to swear an oath you weren’t with us before he let us in. But he did and he says he was on a night off on Saturday, which we’ve already checked and confirmed from the rota at work.
‘According to him, he met some mates for a jar or three at the pub, then went for a curry. He said he got pretty off his face so he went home about midnight and didn’t get up until two in the afternoon.
‘We went to the pub to check his alibi ...’
‘Of course you did,’ Jezza interrupted him, never passing up an opportunity to tease her good friend.
‘They remember seeing him there,’ he went on, ignoring her, ‘and his mates. So did the takeaway. They were a bit lively apparently. We’ve got the name of all the mates but we’ve only caught up with a couple so far. They alibi him. Their story is the same as Dooley’s. Exactly the same as his. Only the lass behind the bar in the pub, who knows him by sight, didn’t think he was drinking as much as the others, and not as much as he usually does.’
‘So he has a tight alibi for three of the fires but not for the fourth. The fatal one,’ Jo said. ‘Boss, if for some reason it is Warren who’s behind these fires, trying to clear himself, is it possible he’s using more than one person on the outside to set the fires? Having told them about the signature pattern?’
‘Rob and I have been sifting through the people he’s had contact with who’ve since been released,’ Mike told them. ‘It’s not as bad as we first thought. Just because they were banged up in Manchester doesn’t mean they’re from the area or have stayed here, of course. A couple have died, some are back inside, some have gone back to where they came from. We’re working through the rest of them for now.’
‘And hopefully my friend Martin will make contact with Warren soon, so he may well have something to tell me.’
‘Martin, is it? My name’s Mr Warren. I’m one of the prison Listeners and I’m here to see if I can help you in some way. Is it all right with you if I sit down just here? You’re quite comfortable with that? Because I want you to be comfortable. It’s not always easy, making the first step. But I’m here to listen, and not to judge you in any way.’
Martin was eyeing up the insignificant-looking man with his strange light eyes. When Ted had first asked for his help, he hadn’t been sure if he was up to the task. This man was used to talking to people desperately unhappy inside prison. Some of them even suicidal. The 2052s.
He’d solemnly sawed away at the inside of his wrist with a plastic knife, the only weapon available to him, as he’d seen others do. It had been seen to and bandaged, but he hoped it gave him some sort of badge of credibility. He hesitated, not quite sure where to begin. He’d only gone along with the scheme when Ted, reluctantly, had agreed to his condition for doing so.
‘I suppose most of the people you talk to are finding it hard coping with being banged up,’ he began tentatively. ‘I’m a bit different. I don’t mind being inside. I’ve been homeless. Even when I’ve been inside before and they’ve fixed me up with a hostel room when I got out, it’s never worked out for me. I’ve always finished up back on the streets. And that’s a hard life. Dangerous, too. It’s cushy in here by comparison.’
To his surprise, once he started, it was easier than he’d imagined. Warren sat still and quiet. A somehow reassuring presence, as Martin began to try to put some of his concerns into words.
When he paused, Warren asked him, ‘Are you a religious man, Martin? We have a very good chaplain here. Always a kind word. A supportive hand. And he carries on his help once prison
ers have left here and are in need of guidance. He still sees some of those I’ve had contact with through the Listener scheme, for instance.’
Martin was about to say it wasn’t his thing. But something told him he might be of more help to Ted if he played along with Warren for now. After all, his remit was to find out as much as he could about the man. And the pay-off was going to be big enough, if he could come up with the goods for Ted.
‘It’s never been my thing before. But I think I’m in need of some help and guidance. Maybe spiritual guidance. I don’t know how to go about it, though. They’ve got me down as an atheist because that’s what I’ve always called myself. Would it look odd if I suddenly ask to start going to church?’
‘You can leave everything in my hands, Martin. No problem at all. I’ll be happy to help you find your way. Father Archer is a kind and warm-hearted man. He’s a Catholic but he provides help and comfort to all religions and those with none. His gentle hand may be just what you need to lead you to the right path.’
Chapter Twenty-four
Ted was always punctual. Obsessively so. He arrived ten minutes before the appointed time for the post-mortem. He found Amelie waiting for him at the top of the steps down to what Bizzie always referred to as her lair in the bowels of the hospital.
‘Morning, sir,’ she said brightly, although she looked freezing. ‘Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I really appreciate it.’
Ted wondered how long she’d been standing there in the cold, waiting for him. He couldn’t fault her on her enthusiasm for the job, for sure.
‘It’s certainly not everyone’s idea of a fun start to the day. But it is a useful training opportunity for you. Professor Nelson is very good, especially in a teaching role, so you’ll learn a lot.’
Once again he stood aside to let her go first, still talking as she went.
‘Sir, I wondered if I’d be able to talk to you about something before we go back to the station? Only I had an idea, but it might be completely stupid. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the full team.’
‘Never worry about that, Amelie. Everyone is always welcome to throw in ideas, even if they are wild. But I usually stop for a bacon barm and a cuppa on the way back from a PM, so we can chat then, if you like?’
‘Thank you, sir. I don’t actually eat breakfast and I’m a vegetarian. But I promise not to cramp your style if that’s what you enjoy.’
It somehow sounded as if there was a hint of reproach there. Ted liked his rituals, though. He wasn’t going to let her guilt him out of his bacon butty.
‘Ah, here you are, Chief Inspector,’ Bizzie greeted him, somehow managing to imply he was late instead of bang on time, having sorted Amelie out first with coveralls. He was grateful to her for not calling him Edwin, as she usually did. No one at work knew his full name, much less used it, and he preferred to keep it that way. He made the introductions.
‘Pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’m looking forward to this opportunity. It’s my first PM.’
‘Well, whatever you do don’t puke anywhere near me, please,’ Bizzie told her breezily. ‘And don’t call me ma’am. It makes me sound like royalty, which is not something I welcome. Professor is fine, or Prof, if you must, but preferably not.
‘Now, shall we get started? As ever, I went to the scene before we recovered the body, to see if that gave me any clues I might need. Your poor crime scene manager was almost tearing his hair out with the volume of work he’s currently juggling. And the big problem with fire is that it does often destroy quite a lot of forensic material which might otherwise be of use to us. It tends to have something of a cleansing effect. So it’s up to me and my humble skills to give you absolutely any and all clues I can.’
Amelie was staring in fascination, hanging on to the Professor’s every word. Ted found himself wondering if he’d been that keen at his first PM.
‘To save some time, I decided to make something of a start while I was waiting for you,’ the Professor continued, again making it sound as if they’d arrived late. ‘And I can promise you something fascinating which might, I hope, give you a good chance of an early ID on this unfortunate victim.
‘You can see immediately that our poor customer is in a somewhat foetal position. That can sometimes be related to the cause of death. Extreme heat may cause muscles and tendons to contract, for instance. But in this case, having visited the scene myself, I can rule that out. Whether from choice or necessity, this man – because I have determined gender; it is a man – slept in an extremely cramped cubby hole under the stairs. It can’t have been comfortable, so I would speculate that he chose to do it for some feeling of safety in seclusion.
‘Having been told there was talk of PTSD, I decided to start some investigations for evidence to corroborate that theory. Or possibly not. Some of my magic devices led me to look further and I was too impatient to wait for your arrival.
‘You can see here,’ she pointed with a scalpel, ‘that I have made a start on accessing the skull. Scalping him, if you will. So now I’m going to carefully fold back the flap to show you what I found underneath.’
Ted and Amelie peered, fascinated, at the part of the skull exposed by her actions. Set into it was a fairly large piece of metal. The Professor touched it lightly with her scalpel.
‘Titanium plate, in case you were wondering. Which indicates that this gentleman has undergone some quite radical surgery, as a result of illness or serious injury, no doubt. He may well have been diagnosed with PTSD, but I’d say it’s more likely than not that once I start prodding around inside his head, I am going to find evidence of some significant damage.
‘Now, DC Foster, I don’t want you to think that we work magic for you on every single post-mortem. Your DCI can confirm that is sadly not the case. But I am pleased to be able to tell you that in this case, we have had a little bit of luck on our side.
‘It’s already gone off for forensic analysis, to see if it can tell us anything, so I can’t show it to you. But amongst this man’s scant possessions was something which he clearly treasured. A military cap badge displaying wings topped by a crown and a lion. Do you happen to know what regiment that is, DC Foster?’
Amelie frowned. ‘I’m afraid I know very little about the military. But wings would tend to suggest something to do with flying. Something a pilot would wear, perhaps?’
‘An intelligent guess. But no. This is from those extraordinary troops who, when travelling in a perfectly serviceable aircraft, simply can’t wait to leap out of it. The Parachute Regiment.’
‘Do you want me to leave the window down so you don’t have to inhale the fumes of my breakfast?’ Ted asked Amelie as he returned to his car with his meal and the cappuccino she’d asked for. She reached for her purse to pay him but he waved the gesture away as he got in and sat down. He was in his own car. It hadn’t been worth going in to collect his service vehicle so early on. Amelie’s car was parked behind his. She’d joined him to tell him her idea.
‘No, it’s fine, sir, but thank you for offering.’
‘Like I told you, there’s no need for sir all the time when we’re out of the office. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about? But please remember, you can always say anything that’s on your mind in a team briefing. No one will mock you. Or if they do, they’ll have me to answer to.’
‘You know how sometimes you see something but don’t register it at the time? Then something happens later that gives you a sort of light-bulb moment?’
Ted nodded, his mouth full of breakfast.
‘And then sometimes you start putting two and two together but you’re not sure if you’re making four or forty?’
Another nod.
‘All this stuff about trees was new to me. I’d never really heard or thought about it before, so I looked some of it up online last night. Then I remembered. The road where the children’s home is. The one where Lucy went after her mother died. That has trees along it and they’d been cut ri
ght back when we visited. I remembered thinking how ugly they looked like that. Now I realise it’s good for them, really, and they’ll grow back healthier and stronger because of it. So perhaps it’s a regular thing. Every few years or so, or even annually.’
Ted took a swallow of his tea. Wondering where she was going with all of this, but prepared to listen to what she had to say.
‘So that means that a tree surgeon or similar must have worked on them. And that got me thinking about Tam Lee again. And about Cyane.’
She hesitated, sounding unsure again.
‘Go on,’ Ted told her, his tone neutral.
‘I was thinking about names. And what we do to them if we’re not keen on them. When I was younger, I went through a phase of only answering to Amy.’
Ted could relate to that. He wasn’t keen on Edwin, his father’s choice, nor his mother insisting on calling him Teddy. Darling had been enough of a challenge, throughout his school days.
‘I know what you mean. My partner’s teenage sister is now going by the third name she’s used since I’ve known her, and that’s not been long.’
‘So then I wondered what a young person might shorten Lucy to. Lu, Lulu. Or perhaps Cy. So I know it sounds completely crazy, but could Lucy Robson now be Cyane Lee? And could she just possibly have met Tam Lee when she was working on those trees outside the children’s home?
‘You can see why I wanted to try this on you first, boss, before making a complete idiot of myself in front of the whole team, with how far-fetched it sounds.’
Ted had finished his roll now and wiped bacon grease from his mouth and fingers with a paper napkin.
‘When you’ve been in this job a little longer, Amelie, you’ll find out that nothing is ever as far-fetched as it sounds, and that every potential lead like this is worth following. Even if only to eliminate it. We’ll head in for morning briefing now and you can share your thoughts.
